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POEMS. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



HENRY ALFORD, 

VICAR OF WIMESWOULD, LEICESTERSHIKE, 
AND LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE, 



IN TWO VOLUMEii. 



Munus ecce fictile 
Inimus intra regiam salutis ; 

Attamen vel infimam 
Deo obsequelam praestitisse prodest. 

Quidquid illud accidet, 
Juvabit ore personasse Christum. 

Prldentii: 



VOLUME I. 

CONTAINING 

SONNETS AND MINOR POEMS. 



CAMBRIDGE : 

PRINTED AT THE PITT PRESS, BY JOHN SAIITH, 
PRINTER ro THE UNIt^BRSITY : 

FOR LONGMAN & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON 
AND J. & J. J. DEIGHTON, CAMBRIDGE. 

M.DCCC.XXXV. 



riuoc-t 



r \ 



%3S 



Mi 



TO 



THE PLAYMATE OF HIS CHILDHOOD, 



THE JOY OF HIS YOUTH, 



AND THE DEAR COMPANION OF HIS CARES AND STUDIES, 



THESE POEMS ARE DEDICATED 



HER AFFECTIONATE HUSBAND. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

jMiscellaneous Sonnets 1 — 46 

To a Drop of Dew 47 

To a Mountain Stream 50 

For an Inscription •'>2 

jOn the Evening of a Village Festival 55 

Lady Mary 57 

Written January 1, 1832 60 

Last Words 62 

A Remembrance 64 

Ballad 69 

To the Angel of Guido •• 72 

)| " We looked into the silent Sky" 75 

'Midnight Thoughts 78 

A Doubt 80 

"I have found Peace in the bright Earth" 82 

"To-morrow — 'tis an idle sound" 84 

" I sought for Novelty," 86 

On the Sign of the Cross in Baptism 88 

Hymn from a Missal 90 

Amor Mundanus 92 



t«^ 



Vm CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Amor Coelestis 95 

"When I am in my Grave" 97 

Written on the Day of General Thanksgiving 99 

Hymn for All Saints' Day in the Morning 101 

The Passion of St Agnes 104 

Hymn to the Sun 110 

Hymn to the Sea 114 

" I stand upon the Margin of our level Lake" 118 

" Father, wake — the Storm is loud" 123 

Written during an Aurora Borealis 121 

Psalm xLvi 123 

Psalm cxxxvii 125 

Psalm XXIV 127 

"Thou little Flovs^er that on thy Stem" 130 

There is a Wood, not far from where I pass 132 

The Ballad of Glastonbury 134 

Written in an Artificial Pleasure -Ground 151 

Palinode to the Foregoing 153 

A Hymn for Family Worship 155 

"There is an ancient Man who dwells" 157 

"Child, whither goest thou" 159 

The Epitaph of Bion 162 

"I had the sweetest dream" 167 

The Malvern Hills 169 



• ( 



SONNETS. 



I. 



If thou would'st find what holiest men have sought. 

Communion with the power of Poesy, 

Empty thy mind of all unquiet thought, — 

Lay bare thy spirit to the vaulting sky 

And the glory of the sunshine ; go and stand 

Where nodding briers sport with the water-break, 

Or by the plashings of a moonlight creek, — 

Or breast the wind upon some jutting land: — 

The most unheeded things have influences 

That sink into the soul ; in after-hours 

We oft are tempted suddenly to dress 

The tombs of half- forgotten moods with flowers : 

Our own choice mocks us ; — and the sweetest themes 

Come to us without call, wayward as dreams. 

VOL. I. A 



l^' 



SONNETS. 



II. 



Weep ye and howl^ for that ye did refuse 

God's feast of bounties when most largely spread; — 

Sunrise and set, and clustering overhead 

The nightly stars — for that ye did not choose 

To Avait on Beauty, all content to lose 

The portion of the Spirit's offered })read 

With which the humble wise are daily fed. 

That grows from yielding things despised their dues. 

Therefore your solitary hours unblest 

Shall not be peopled with the memories dear 

Of field and church-way path and runnel clear: 

Therefore your fading age shall not be drest 

With fresh spring-flowers : because ye did belie 

Your noblest life, in sorrow ye shall die. 



SONNETS 



III. 



But deck the board — ^for hither comes a band 
Of pure young spirits fresh-arrayed in white 
Glistering against the newly-risen light; 
Over the green and dew-impearled land 
Blithesomely tripping forward hand in hand : 
Deck ye the board — and let the guests be dight 
In the Gospel wedding-garment rich and bright. 
And every bud that summer suns expand. 
For you ye humble ones our thickets bloom : 
Ye know the texture of each opening flower, 
And which the sunshine, and which love the gloom 
The shrill of poised larks for many an hour 
Ye watch: and all things gentle in your hearts 
Have place, and play at call their tuneful parts. 



A 2 



SONNETS. 



IV. 



'TwERE better far from noon to eventide 
To sit and feed sad care^ and fence the while 
The patient spirit for unwonted toil. 
Than in the calm for ever to abide ; 
'Twere better far to climb the mountain side 
Through perilous buffeting of wind and steep^ 
Than in the valley nook, charmed into sleep. 
All the fair blossoms of young life to hide. 
So let me labour — for 'tis labour-worth 
To feel the fruits of my seedtime of tears 
Shedding their fragrance over half this earth ; 
No mother rues the sharpest pangs of birth 
So she may see the offspring of her fears 
Standing in high estate and manly years. 



SONNETS. 



V. 



Out, palsied soul, that dost but tremble ever 
In sight of the bright sunshine; — mine be joy. 
And the full heart, and the eye that faileth never 
In the glad morning: — I am yet a boy; — 
I have not wandered from the chrystal river 
That flowed by me in childhood: my employ 
Hath been to take the gift, and praise the Giver: 
To love the flowers thy heedless steps destroy. 
I wonder if the bliss that flows to me 
In youth, shall be exhaled and scorched up dry 
By the noonday glare of life : I must not lie 
For ever in the shade of childhood's tree : 
But I must venture forth and make advance 
Along the toiled path of human circumstance. 



SONNETS 



VI. 



Truth loveth not to lavish upon all 
The clear downshining of her heavenly smile ; 
She chooseth those on whom its light shall fall;, 
And shuts them from the earthly crowd the while: 
But they whom she hath lightened^, tread this earth 
With step and mien of heavenly gentleness; 
Ye shall not see them drunk with over-mirth. 
Or tangled in the world's thick wilderness; 
For there hath shone upon their path of life 
Mild beamings from a hidden glory's ray; 
A calm hath past upon their spirit's strife. 
The bounding of young hopes hath sunk away. 
And certain bliss hath dawned, with still uprise. 
Like the deep rest of joy in spirits' Paradise. 



SONNETS. 



VII. 



Fell not that Angela, who before the race 
Of Time begun, in solitary pride 
Standing above his bright compeers, defied 
The Lord's Anointed? Found those Seraphs grace. 
Though beautiful and strong, who dared deface 
The heavenly image — those who set aside 
Their fealty, and then fell when sharpest tried. 
Out of all hope, from highest name and place? 
And shall man's rebel spirit sport with sin, 
And keep smile-loving Hope joint-playfellow? 
Shall Beauty light on perished cheeks her glow. 
While the worm revels with his mates within? 
Never — though Pride with falsest bravery dress 
The ribbed shape of utter wretchedness. 



SONNETS. 



VIII. 

Before the day the gleaming dawn doth flee: — 

All yesternight I had a dreary dream ; 

Methought I walked in desert Academe 

Among fallen pillars — and there came to me 

All in a dim half- twilight silently 

A very sad old man — his eyes were red 

With over-weeping — and he cried and said 

' The light hath risen but shineth not on me/ 

Beautiful Athens, all thy loveliness 

Is like the scarce remembered burst of spring 

When now the summer in her party dress 

Hath clothed the woods, and filled each living thing 

With ripest joy— -because upon our time 

Hath risen the noon, and thou wert in the prime. 



SONNETS. 



IX. 



CoLONOs ! can it be that thou hast still 

Thy laurel and thine olive and thy vine? 

Do thy close-feathered nightingales yet trill 

Their warbles of thick-sobbed song divine? 

Does the gold-sheen of the crocus o'er thee shine, 

And the dew-fed clusters of the daffodil, 

And round thy flowery knots Cephisus twine. 

Aye oozing up with many a bubbling rill? 

O might I stand beside thy leafy knoll 

In sight of the far-off city towers, and see 

The faithful- hearted pure Antigone 

Toward the dread precinct leading sad and slow 

That awful temple of a kingly soul 

Lifted to heaven by unexampled woe- 



a5 



10 SONNE't'S, 



X. 



Slowly and softly let the music go, 
As ye wind upwards to the gray church tower ; 
Check the shrill hautboy, let the pipe breathe low- 
Tread lightly on the pathside daisy flower. 
For she ye carry was a gentle bud, 
Loved by the unsunned drops of silver dew ; 
Her voice was like the whisper of the wood 
In prime of even, when the stars are few. 
Lay her all gently in the flowerful mould, 
Weep with her one brief hour; then turn away, — 
Go to hope's prison, — and from out the cold 
And solitary gratings many a day 
Look forth: 'tis said the world is growing old, — ■ 
And streaks of orient light in Time's horizon play, 



SONNETS. 11 



XI. 



The Funeral Sermon was on the text "The Master is come 
and calleth for thee." St. John xi. 28. 

Rise, said the Master, come unto the feast: — 

She heard the call, and rose with willing feet: 

But thinking it not otherwise than meet 

For such a bidding to put on her best. 

She is gone from us for a few short hours 

Into her bridal closet, there to wait 

For the unfolding of the palace gate 

That gives her entrance to the blissful bowers. 

We have not seen her yet; though we have been 

Full often to her chamber door, and oft 

Have listened underneath the postern green. 

And laid fresh flowers, and whispered short and soft 

But she hath made no answer, and the day 

From the clear West is fading fast away. 



12 SONNETS. 



XII. 



HEU QUANTO MINUS EST CUM RELIQUIS VERSARI, 
QUAM TUI MEMINISSE. 

The sweetest flower that ever saw the light. 
The smoothest stream that ever wandered by, 
The fairest star upon the brow of night. 
Joying and sparkling from his sphere on high, 
The softest glances of the stockdove's eye. 
The lily pure, the marybud gold-bright, 
The gush of song that floodeth all the sky 
From the dear flutterer mounted out of sight; — 
Are not so pleasure-stirring to the thought, 
Not to the wounded soul so full of balm. 
As one frail glimpse, by painful straining caught 
Along the past's deep mist-enfolded calm. 
Of that sweet face, not visibly defined. 
But rising clearly on the inner mind. 



SONNETS. is 



XIII. 



M. S. E, S. Sept. 1832. 



This side the brow of yon sea-boiinding hill 

There is an alley over-arched with green. 

Where thick grown briers entwine themselves at will 

There, twinkling through the under-flowers, is seen 

The ever-shaking ocean far below ; 

And on the upper side, a rocky wall 

Where deepest mosses and lithe ivies grow, 

And honeysuckle blooms in clusters fall. 

There walked I when I last remembered thee ; 

And all too joyfully came o'er my mind 

Moments of pleasure by the Southern sea. 

By our young lives two summers left behind ; 

Ah sad-sweet memory — for that very day 

The gloom came on which may not pass away. 



i4 



SONNETS 



XIV. 



Oh ! when shall this frail tenement of clay 
Be emptied by Death's peremptory call. 
And its celestial guest be fetched away, 
From mortal tenure and corporeal thrall, 
A beam, to mingle with the flood of day, 
A part to join unto the glorious All? — 
When shall the kingly intellect have fled 
From this his dull material servitude, 
And Thought exalt her long-abased head. 
With pomp of heavenly majesty endued? 
And when shall the aff'ection, here below 
Broken by parting in its stream of light. 
Dash oif the earthly vestiture of woe, 
And shine, with everlasting radiance bright ? 



FAMILY VAULT. 15 



XV. 



ON SEEING OUR FAMILY VAULT. 

This lodging is well chosen; — for 'tis near 

The fitful sighing of those chesnut trees ; — 

And every Sabbath morning it can hear 

The swelling of the hymned melodies : 

And the low booming of the funeral bell 

Shall murmur through the dark and vaulted room, 

Waking its solemn echoes but to tell 

That one more soul is gathered to its home. 

There we shall lie beneath the trodden stone: — 

Oh none can tell how dreamless and how deep 

Our peace will be — when the last earth is thrown,- 

The last notes of the music fallen asleep, — 

The mourners past away^, — the tolling done, — 

The last chink closed, and the long dark begun. 



16 FAMILY VAULT, 



XVI. 



ON THE SAME OCCASION. 



Could I for once be so in love with gloom 

As to leave off with cold mortality — 

To finish with the deep peace of the tomb, 

And the sealed darkness of the withering eye ? 

And could I look on thee, thou calm retreat, 

And never once think of the joyous morn, 

Which bursting through the dark, our eyes shall greet 

With heavenly sunshine on the instant born ? 

O glorious time, when we shall wake at length 

After life's tempest under a clear sky. 

And count our band, and find with keenest joy 

None wanting — love preserved in all its strength ; — 

And with fresh beauty hand in hand shall rise, 

A Link in the bright Chain of ransomed Families. 



SUNSET. 17 



XVII. 



SUNSET. 



How bare and bright thou sinkest to thy rest 

Over the burnished line of the Severn-sea ! 

While somewhat of thy power thou buriest 

In ruddy mists, that we may look on thee. 

And while we stand and wonder, we may see 

Far mountain-tops in visible glory drest, 

Where 'twixt yon purple hills the sight is free 

To search the regions of the dim North-west. 

But shadowy bars have crossed thee — suddenly 

Thou'rt fallen among strange clouds; — yet not the less 

Thy presence know we, by the radiancy 

That doth thy shroud with golden fringes dress; 

Even as hidden Love to the faithful eye 

Brightens the edges of obscure distress. 



J 8 ON wokdsworth's "ruth. 



XVIII. 

RECOLLECTION OF WORDSWORTH's " RUTH." 

Here are the brows of Quantock^ purple-clad 

With lavish heath-bloom : there the banks of Tone 

Where is that woman love-forlorn and sad. 

Piping her flute of hemlock all alone.? 

I hear the Quantock woodmen whistling home — 

The sunset flush is over Dunkery : — 

I fear me much that she hath ceased to roam 

Up the steep path, and lie beneath the tree. 

I always fancied I should hear in sooth 

That music — but it sounds not: — wayward tears 

Are filling in mine eyes for thee, poor Ruth — 

I had forgotten all the lapse of years 

Since thy deep griefs were hallowed by the pen 

Of that most pure of Poesy-gifted Men. 



EVENING IN AUTUMN. J 9 



XIX. 



AN EVENING IN AUTUMN. 



How soothing is that sound of far-off wheels 

Under the golden sheen of the harvest-moon : 

In the shade-chequered road it half reveals 

A homeward-wending group, with hearts in tune 

To thankful merriment; — father and boy, 

And maiden with her gleanings on her head; 

And the last waggon's rumble heard with joy 

In the kitchen with the ending-supper spread. 

But while I listening stand, the sound hath ceased ; 

And hark from many voices lustily 

The harvest-home, the prelude to the feast. 

In measured bursts is pealing loud and high ; 

Soon all is still again beneath the bright 

Full moon, that guides me home this Autumn night. 



20 GLASTONBURY, 



XX. 



GLASTONBURY. 



On thy green marge, thou vale of Avaloii, 

Not for that thou art crowned with ancient towers 

And shafts and clustered pillars many an one, 

Love I to dream away the sunny hours ; 

Not for that here in charmed slumber lie 

The holy reliques of that British king 

Who was the flower of knightly chivalry. 

Do I stand blest past power of uttering; — 

But for that on thy cowslip-sprinkled sod 

A lit of old the olive-bearing bird. 

Meek messenger of purchased peace with God ; 

And the first hymns that Britain ever heard 

Arose, the low preluding melodies 

To the sweetest anthem that hath reached the skies. 



THE MENDIP HILLS OVER WELLS. 2L 



XXI. 

THE MENDIP HILLS OVER WELLS. 

How grand beneath the feet that company 

Of steep gray roofs and clustering pinnacles 

Of the massy fane, brooding in majesty 

Above the town that spreads among the dells ! 

Hark ! the deep clock unrolls its voice of power ; 

And sweetly-mellowed sound of chiming bells 

Calling to prayer from out the central tower 

Over the thickly-timbered hollow dwells. 

Meet worship-place for such a glorious stretch 

Of sunny prospect — for these mighty hills. 

And that dark solemn Tor, and all that reach 

Of bright-green meadows, laced with silver rills. 

Bounded by ranges of pale blue, that rise 

To where white strips of sea are traced upon the skies. 



22 CULBONE, OR KITNORE, SOMERSET. 



XXII. 

CULBONE, OR KITNORE, SOMERSET. 

Half way upon the clifF I musing stood 

O'er thy sea-fronting hollow, while the smoke 

Curled from thy cottage- chimnies through the wood 

And brooded on the steeps of glooming oak ; 

Under a dark green buttress of the hill 

Looked out thy lowly house of sabbath prayer; 

The sea was calm below : only thy rill 

Talked to itself upon the quiet air. 

Yet in this quaint and sportive-seeming dell 

Hath through the silent ages that are gone 

A stream of human things been passing on. 

Whose unrecorded story none may tell, 

Nor count the troths in that low chancel given, 

And souls from yonder cabin fled to heaven. 



LINN-CLEEVE, LINTON, DEVON. 23 



XXIII. 

LINN-CLEEVE, LINTON, DEVON. 

This onward-deepening gloom — this hanging path 

Over the Linn that soundeth mightily. 

Foaming and tumbling on, as if in wrath 

That aught should bar its passage to the sea. 

These sundered walls of rock, tier upon tier 

Built darkly up into the very sky. 

Hung with thick woods, the native haunt of deer 

And sheep that browze the dizzy slopes on high — 

All half-unreal to my fancy seem, — 

For opposite my crib, long years ago. 

Were pictured just such rocks, just such a stream. 

With just this height above, and depth below ; 

Even this jutting crag I seem to know — 

As when some sight calls back a half- forgotten dr earn. 



24 WATERS-MEET, LINTON, DEVON. 



XXIV. 

WATERS-MEET, LINTON, DEVON. 
RECOLLECTION OF HOMER. 

Even thus, methinks, in some Ionian isle, 

Yielding his soul to unrecorded joy. 

Beside a fall like this lingered awhile 

Oh briery banks that wondrous Minstrel-boy; 

Long hours there came upon his vacant ear 

The rushing of the river, till strange dreams 

Fell on him, and his youthful spirit clear 

Was dwelt on by the Power of voiceful streams. 

Thenceforth begun to grow upon his soul 

The sound and force of waters ; and he fed 

His joy at many an ancient river's head. 

And echoing caves, and thunder, and the roll 

Of the wakeful ocean, — till the day when he 

Poured forth that stream divine of mighty Melody. 



SONNETS. 25 



XXV. 

My own dear country — thy remembrance comes 

Like softly-flowing music on my heart; 

With thy green sunny hills, and happy homes. 

And cots rose-bowered, bosomed in dells apart; 

The merry pealings of our village bells 

Gush ever and anon upon mine ear ; 

And is there not a far-off sound that tells 

Of many-voiced laughter shrill and clear ? 

Oh ! were I now with thee — to sit and play 

Under the hawthorn on the slope o' th' hill. 

As I was wont to do; or pluck all day 

The cowslip and the flaunting daffodil. 

Till shepherds whistled homeward, and the West 

Folded the large sun in her crimson breast. 



VOL. I. 



-f 



<y 



25 SONNETS. 



XXVI. 

Come to me often, sportive Memory; 

Thy hands are full of flowers; thy voice is sweet, 

Thine innocent uncareful look doth meet 

The solitary cravings of mine eye ; 

I cannot let thee flit unheeded by. 

For I have gentle words wherewith to greet 

Thy welcome visits; pleasant hours are fleet, 

So let us sit and talk the sand-glass dry. 

Dear visitant, who comest, dark and light, 

Morning and evening, and with merry voice 

Tellest of new occasion to rejoice ; 

And playest round me in the fairy night 

Like a quaint spirit, on the moonlight beams, 

Threading the mazy labyrinth of dreams. 



SONNETS. 27 



XXVII. 

Oh what doth it avail in busy care 

The summer of our days to pass away 

In doors — nor forth into the sunny ray, 

Nor by the wood nor river- side to fare, 

Nor on far-seeing hills to meet the air. 

Nor watch the land- waves yean the shivering spray? 

Oh what doth it avail, though every day 

Fresh-catered wealth its golden tribute bear? 

Rather along the field-paths in the morn 

To meet the first laugh of the twinkling East, 

Or when the clear-eyed Aphrodite is born 

Out from the amber ripples of the West, 

'Tis joy, to move under the bended sky. 

And smell the pleasant earth, and feel the winds go by 



b2 



W SONNETS. 



XXVIII. 

TO THE LADY MILLICENT BARBER. 

Lady, I may not but indite to thee 

One grateful tribute of my verse, to tell 
How sweetly fared my spirit and how well 

In the pure air of thy society, 

How cheered and how refreshed she back returned 
Into this world's thick weary atmosphere ; 
And how she hath trimmed up and pointed clear 

Her lamps of Faith and Hope that dimly burned. 

Because thy talk hath been of Christ, and things 
Hid in the bosom of eternal Love : 
Because thy soul hath fixed her rest above. 

And thither straining with unflagging wings 
Pierceth in vision far beyond the ken 
Of the proud multitude of reasoning men. 



SONNETS. 29 



XXIX. 

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE "RECTORY OF VALEHEAD.' 

There is a sweet well-spring of purity 

In the holy heart, whereout unceasing flow 

Its living waters, freshening as they go 
The weary deserts of humanity: 
There is a spirit in words, which doth express 

Celestial converse and divine employ ; 
A surface of unbroken gentleness 

With an under-current of deep-running joy. 
I closed thy holy book this sabbath morn ; 

And it hath spread like billow- calming oil 

Upon my spirit, in the loud turmoil 
Of ever-striving passions tempest- worn ; — 

Thy Master's peace be thine, even as thou hast 

Over this soul a holy quiet cast. 



so SONNETS. 



XXX. 



TO MARY. 



On thy young brow, my cousin, twenty years 
Have shed their sunshine — and this April morn 
Looks on thee fresh and gladsome, as new-born 
From veiling clouds the King of Day appears : 
Thou scarce canst order back the thankful tears 
That swell in thy blue eyes — nor dare to meet 
The happy looks that never cease to greet 
Thee, the dear nurseling of our hopes and fears. 
This Eastertide together we have read 
How in the garden when that weeping one 
Asked sadly for her Lord of some unknown. 
With look of sweet reproof he turned and said, 
MARY — sweet cousin, when thy need shall be. 
That word, that look, so may he turn on thee. 



SONNETS. 31 



XXXI. 



TO THE SAME. 

Cheeriest of maidens, who with light of bliss 

That waneth never, in thy gladsome eye, 

Passest all lightly Earth's sad sorrows by, 

Scarce crediting report of aught amiss 

In the wide-wasted world ; on thee the smile 

Of heavenly Peacefulness doth ever rest, 

And thou art joying in a region blest 

With tempests raging round thee all the while. 

So mayest thou ever be, if thou shalt keep 

Unfailing communings with Him above ; 

And in thy sunshine hours of wakeful Love, 

And the unchecked confidings of thy sleep. 

With pure distilment be thy spirit fed 

Of holiest influence, from His presence shed. 



32 SONNETS. 



XXXII. 

TO THE WOOD PIGEON. 

WRITTEN IN PASSION WEEK. 

Tell me thou mild and melancholy bird, 

Whence learnedst thou that meditative voice? 

For all the forest-passages rejoice. 

And not a note of sorrow now is heard; 

I would know more — how is it I preferred 

To leave the station of my morning choice 

Where with her sudden startle of shrill noise 

The budding thorn-bush brake the blackbird stirred.^ 

Sweet mourner — who in time of fullest glee 
Risest to uttering but so sad a strain. 
And in the bleak winds, when they ruffle thee, 
Keepest thee still, and never dost complain ; 
I love thee — for thy note to memory brings 
This sorrowing in the midst of happiest things. 



SONNETS. SS 



^XXIII. 



EASTER EVE. 



I SAW two women weeping by the tomb 

Of one new buried, in a fair green place 

Bowered with shrubs; — the eve retained no trace 

Of aught that day performed, — but the faint gloom 

Of dying day was spread upon the sky ; — 

The moon was broad and bright above the wood ; — - 

The distance sounded of a multitude, 

Music, and shout, and mingled revelry. 

At length came gleaming through the thicket shade 

Helmet and casque — and a steel-armed band 

Watched round the sepulchre in solemn stand ; 

The night word past, from man to man conveyed ; 

And I could see those women rise and go 

Under the dark trees, moving sad and slow. 



b5 



34} SONNETS. 



XXXIV. 

IN LAUDEM S. EULALI^ V. ET M. 

V^OUNG budding virgin, who in bashful pride 

All dedicate to Christ didst stand apart 

From the crowd of pitying faithless, and with heart 

Unmoved didst count the iron talons gride 

Their purple furrows in thy tender side : 

Beautiful is thy story — full of food 

For youthful souls that need be gently wooed ; 

Few have confessed so young, so sweetly died. 

Forth with thine ebbing breath was seen to fly 

A milk white dove to heaven, an emblem meet 

Of undefiled baptismal purity; 

And dead upon the inhospitable street. 

With gently floating flakes the piteous sky 

Snow clad thy girlish limbs, as with a funeral sheet* 



SONNETS. 35 



XXXV. 



EPIPHANY. 



As some great Actor^ when the rhythmic strain 

Of musiC;, and the step of even dance 

Hath ceased, in conscious pride is seen to advance 

Fixing the wandering looks of all again: 

On whom the choric band in comely train 

Wait ever, duly with responsive parts 

Timing his measured passion, but all hearts 

He hath in hand to mould to pity or pain ; — 

So in the scenic skies that wondrous Star 

Came forth — and the myriads that spectators are 

Of heavenly acts, baffled their lights in gloom, 

To give the great Protagonist his way: 

And the drama opened, that nor night nor day 

Shall see consummate, till the final doom. 



36 SONNETS. 



XXXVI. 



Saviour and Lord beloved — what homage new 

Shall thy Church give thee in these latter days. 

When there is nothing new? — no song of praise 

That ages have not sung — nor worship due 

That hath not long been paid? Faithful and tru( 

Our hearts are beating to thee — can we raise 

No monument for victories of grace — 

Must all our efforts be so poor and few? 

O vain and earthly wish — that would be great 

In over-serving — rather may we lie 

In meekest self devotion at thy feet, 

And watch the quiet hours as they pass by. 

Content and thankful for occasion shown 

To make old service and old faith our own. 



SONNETS. 37 



XXXVII. 

WRITTEN IN AN INTERVAL OF MELANCHOLY FOREBODING 
RESPECTING THE CHURCH. 

Herbert and Crashaw, and that other name 

Now dear as those, of him beneath whose eye 

Arose* ''the second Temple's" honoured frame 

After a carnal dark captivity, — 

These are remembrances of promise high. 

That set our smouldering energies on flame 

To dare for our Mother, and if need to die. 

Sooner than blot her reverend cheek with shame. 

Oh England, England ! there hath twined among 

The woof of all thy gloomiest destinies 

A golden thread : a sound of sweetest song 

Hath cheered thee under sad and threatening skies ; 

But thou hast revelled in the calm too long — 

And waxest all unmindful where thy safety lies. 

* See the conclusion of "The Rectory of Valehead;" also, that 
of the Sermon "on the Fortunes of the Church" in "The Church 
of God, a series of Sermons." 



38 SONNETS. 



XXXVIII. 

ON HEARING THAT IT IS SUPPOSED FROM ASTRONOMICAL 

CONSIDERATIONS THAT THE WORLD IS YET IN 

ITS INFANCY. 

So then the lessons of all-teachmg Time 

Shall not be fruitless: but the sons of men 

Will live to ripen into age, and ken 

The hidden laws of God; — the doubts and fears 

That flit around us, when the hght appears 

Shall cease to haunt us: and young Truth, by then 

Vigorous for good, shall take his power and reign. 

Nursed in the discipline of human tears. 

O might I live, when from this stir of things, 

That fills our days, some new and mighty birth 

Of purest Mind hath risen upon the Earth ; 

Or when my Spirit folds her weary wing 

Where no Storm comes, watching with calm delight. 

On Human Beauty feed my Angel-sight. 



BONNETS, 3,9 



XXXIX. 

Blest be the taper which hath power to shed 

Light on the features of that angel face; 

Blest be the sadness of this solemn place ; 

Blest be the circle round that parting bed 

Whence many days all earthly hope hath fled; 

And the Spirit which hath well nigh reached by Grace 

The rest of toil, the guerdon of its race, 

Faint, but with hidden manna gently fed. 

Oft have ye tended, with unwearied care 

This couch of her's, in anxious time of birth : 

Your meed of love, her mother-joys to share ; 

Now her's the joy, and ye are left to mourn: 

For all your care can never keep on Earth 

The glorious Child that shall to-night be born. 



40 SONNETS. 



XL. 



Still as a moonlight ruin is thy form. 

Or meekness of carved marble, that hath prayed 

For ages on a tomb; serenely laid 

As some fair vessel that hath braved the storm 

And past into her haven, when the noise 

That cheered her home hath all to silence died. 

Her crew have shoreward parted, and no voice 

Troubles her sleeping image in the tide. 

Sister and Saint, thou art a closed book 

Whose holy printing none may yet reveal; 

A few days thou art granted us to look 

On thy clasped binding, till that One unseal. 

The Lamb, alone found worthy, and above 

Thou teach sweet lessons to the Kings of Love. 



SONNETS. 41 



XLI. 



Long we have mourned ; but now the worst hath come, 

We cannot weep, nor feel as we have felt 

For aught in sorrow: thou art all too calm 

And solemn-silent on thy bed of death ; — 

And that white sunken face hath never a sign 

To make of aught disquieted within. 

'Tis a most awful thing, that face of thine 

Seared with the traces which the soul hath left, — 

The settlement from all the stir of life. 

The fixed conclusion of all modes of thought. 

The final impress of all joys and cares : — 

We dare not whisper when we look on thee ; 

We scarce can breathe our breath when thou art by; 

Dread image of the majesty of Man ! 



42 SONNETS. 



XLII. 

WELCOME;, stern Winter, though thy brows are bound 

With no fresh flowers, and ditties none thou hast 

But the wild music of the sweeping blast; 

Welcome this chilly wind that snatches round 

The brown leaves in quaint eddies; we have long 

Panted in wearying heat; skies always bright 

And dull return of never-clouded light 

Sort not with hearts that gather food for song. 

Rather, dear Winter, I would forth with thee. 

Watching thee disattire the Earth; and roam 

On the bleak heaths that stretch about my home, 

Till round the flat horizon I can see 

The purple frost-belt; then to fireside chair, 

And sweetest labour of poetic care. 



SONNETS. 43 



XLIII. 

TO WILLIAM JACKSON OF EXETER. 

Jackson, than whom none better skilled to lead 
The willing spirit captive with sweet lays. 
Searching the hidden fountain-heads which feed 
Our love of Beauty — thine be all the praise 
Of tuning to our England's hills and dales 
Responsive melodies, whose music dwells 
^ Among the memories of early tales. 
And far-off chime of unforgotten bells. 
With thee, sick at the boastful ignorance 
Of this dull age that hath no heart for song, 
My winter hours I spend, and lead along 
My thought in playful or in solemn dance, 
Whether the harp discourse of fields and swains, 
Or meditate high praise in angel strains. 



44 SONNETS 



XLIV. 



THE GIPSY GIRL. 



Passing I saw her as she stood beside 
A lonejy stream between two barren w^olds ; 
Her loose vest hung in rudely-gathered folds 
On her sw^art bosom, which in maiden pride 
Pillowed a string of pearls; among her hair 
Twined the light blue-bell, and the stonecrop gay 
And not far thence the small encampment lay 
Curling its wreathed smoke into the air. 
She seemed a Child of some sun-favoured clime ; 
So still, so habited to warmth and rest ; 
And in my wayward musings on past time, 
When my thought fills witli treasured memories. 
That image nearest borders on the blest 
Creations of pure Art that never dies. 



SONNETS. 45 



XLV. 

MERE NATURAL JOY IN THE FOLD OF CHRIST'S CHURCH MORE BLESSED 

THAN THE SACRED SERVICES OF SELF-RELYING RELIGIONISTS. 

DEO OPT. MAX. 

If in the hour of heartless mockery, 

When flesh-proud sects their simple-seeming show 

Set up, and put thy hallowed ordinance by. 

My spirit hath forgotten Thee; not so 

When through the cloister aisle at dead of night 

Gust the wild ravings of the winter blast; 

Not so when sleep and solitude are past 

And Heaven drinks joyance from the fresh-born Light; 

Not so when truth of high Philosophy 

Scarce found by searching long and wearisome 

Forth from an early-loved one's mild blue eye 

Beams, like a bright child from a cottage home : 

Fraught with devotion and deep piety 

*Tis then my soul doth worship — then I walk with Thee. 



4>6 SONNETS. 



XLVI. 

All things are dying round us : days and hours 
A multitudinous troop, are passing on: 
Winter is fled, and Spring hath shed her flowers. 
And Summer's sun was shining, and hath shone: 
Autumn was with us, but his work is done : 
They all have flitted by, as doth a dream; 
And we are verging onward. — 'Tis not so : 
We name reality but as things seem, 
And Truth is hidden from our eyes below. 
We live but in the dimness of a sleep : — 
Soon shall the veil be rent from certainty. 
The spell of Time be loosed from us, and we 
Pass out from this incurved and fretful stream 
Into the bosom of the tranquil Deep. 



POEMS, 



TO A DROP OF DEW. 

SuN-begotten, ocean-born. 

Sparkling in the summer morn 

Underneath me as I pass 

O'er the hill-top on the grass. 

All among thy fellow drops 

On the speary herbage tops 

Round and bright and warm and still 

Over all the Northern hill; 

Who may be so blest as thee 

Of the sons of men that be ? 

Evermore thou dost behold 

All the sunset bathed in gold, 



48 TO A DROP OF DEW. 

Then thou listenest all night long 
To the leaves' faint undersong 
From two tall dark elms, that rise 
Up against the silent skies; 
Evermore thou drink' st the stream 
Of the chaste moon's purest beam ; 
Evermore thou dost espy 
Every star that twinkles by ; 
Till thou hearest the cock crow 
From the barton far below ; 
Till thou seest the dawn-streak 
From the Eastern night-clouds break; 
Till the mighty king of light 
Lifts his unsoiled visage bright. 
And his speckled flocks has driven 
To batten in the fields of heaven ; 
Then thou lightest up thy breast 
With the lamp thou lovest best; 
Many rays of one thou makest, 
Giving three for one thou takest; 
Love and constancy's best blue, 
Sunny warmth of golden hue. 



TO A DROP OF DEW. 49 

Glowing red, to speak thereby 
Thine affection's ardency : — 
Thus rejoicing in his sight, 
Made a creature of his light, 
Thou art all content to be 
Lost in his immensity ; 
And the best that can be said 
When they ask why thou art fled. 
Is, that thou art gone to share 
With him the empire of the air. 



VOL. I. 



50 POEM&. 



II. 



TO A MOUNTAIN STREAM. 

« 
I NAMED thee once the silver thread. 
When in the burning summer day 
I stept across thy stony bed 
Upon my homeward way. 

For down an old rock's mossy steep 

Thy thin bright stream, as I past by, 
Into a calm pool clear and deep 
Slid down most peacefully. 

But now it is the Autumn eve. 

Dark clouds are hurrying through the sky 
Thy envious waters will not leave 
One stone to cross thee by. 



TO A MOUNTAIN STREAM. 

And all about that old steep rock 

Thy foamy fall doth plash and roar, 
Troubling with rude incessant shock 
The pool so still before. 

Thus happy childhood evermore 

Betieath unclouded summer suns 
On to its little lucid store 

Of joy most calmly runs. 

But riper age with restless toil 

Ever for ampler pleasures frets; 
And oft with infinite turmoil 
Troubles the peace it gets. 



c 2 



52 POEMS. 



III. 



FOR AN INSCRIPTION. 

I WAS a young fair tree; 
Each spring with quivering green 
My boughs were clad; and far 
Down the deep vale, a light 
Shone from me on the eyes 
Of those who past: a light 
That told of sunny days 
And blossoms^ and blue sky ; 
For I was ever first 
Of all the grove, to hear 
The soft voice under ground 
Of the warm- working Spring ; 
And ere my brethren stirred 
Their sheathed buds, the kine, 
And the kine's keeper, came 
Slow up the valley path. 



FOR AN INSCRIPTION. 53 

And laid them underneath 
My cool and rustling leaves; 
And I could feel them there 
As in the quiet shade 
They stood, with tender thoughts. 
That past along their life 
Like wings on a still lake. 
Blessing me — and to God, 
The blessed God, who cares 
For all my little leaves. 
Went up the silent praise; 
And I was glad, with joy 
Which life of labouring things 
111 knows, the joy that sinks 
Into a life of rest. 

Ages have fled since then : — - 
But deem not my pierced trunk 
And scanty leafage serves 
No high behest; my name 
Is sounded far and wide: 
And in the Providence 
That guides the steps of men 
Himdreds have come to view 
My grandeur in decay : 



54 POEMS. 

And there hath passed troni me 

A quiet influence 

Into the minds of men : 

The silver head of age, 

The majesty of laws, 

The very name of God, 

And holiest things that are. 

Have won upon the heart 

Of humankind the more. 

For that I stand to meet 

With vast and bleaching trunk 

The rudeness of the sky. 



ON THE EVENING OF A VILLAGE FESTIVAL. BT) 



IV. 



ON THE EVENING OF A VILLAGE FESTIVAL 

While our shrub- walks darken^ 

And the stars get bright aloft. 
Sit we still and hearken 

To the music low and soft; 
By the old oak yonder 

Where we watch the setting sun. 
Listening to the far-off' thunder 

Of the multitude as one : 

Sit, my best beloved. 

In the waning light: 
Yield thy spirit to the teaching 

Of each sound and sight : 
While those sounds are flowing 

To their silent rest: 
While the parting wake of sunlight 

Broods along the West. 



56' POEMS. 

Sweeter 'tis to hearken 

Than to bear a part: 
Better to look on happiness 

Than to carry a light heart: 
Sweeter to walk on cloudy hills 

With a sunny plain below. 
Than to weary of the brightness 

Where the floods of sunshine flow. 

Souls that love each other 

Join both joys in one; 
Blest by other's happiness 

And nourished by their own : 
So with quick reflexion 

Each its opposite 
Still gives back, and multiplies 

To infinite delight. 



LADY MARY. 57 



LADY MARY. 

Thou wert fair. Lady Mary, 

As the lily in the sun : 
And fairer yet thou mightest be, 

Thy youth was but begun : 
Thine eye was soft and glancing, 

Of the deep bright blue ; 
And on the heart thy gentle words 

Fell lighter than the dew. 

They found thee. Lady Mary, 
With thy palms upon thy breast. 

Even as thou hadst been praying. 
At thine hour of rest: 
c5 



58 jPOEMS. 

The cold pale moon was shining 

On thy cold pale cheek ; 
And the morn of the Nativity 

Had just begun to break. 

They carved thee. Lady INIary, 

All of pure white stone. 
With thy palms upon thy breast, 

In the chancel all alone: 
And I saw thee when the winter moon 

Shone on thy marble cheek, 
When the morn of the Nativity 

Had just begun to break. 

But thou kneelest. Lady Mary, 

With thy palms upon thy breast. 
Among the perfect spirits, 

Li the land of rest: 
Thou art even as they took thee 

At thine hour of prayer; 
Save the glory that is on thee 

From the sun that shineth there. 



LADY MARY. 59 

We shall see thee, Lady IMary, 

On that shore unknown, 
A pure and happy angel 

In the presence of the throne ; 
We shall see thee, when the light divine 

Plays freshly on thy cheek, 
And the resurrection morning 

Hath just begun to break. 



60 roEMs. 



VI. 



WRITTEN JANUARY 1, 1832. 

The year is born to-day — methinks it hath 
A chilly time of it; for down the sky 
The flaky frost-cloud stretches, and the sun 
Lifted his large light from the Eastern plains. 
With gloomy mist-enfolded countenance. 
And garments rolled in blood. Under the haze 
Along the face of the waters, gather fast 
Sharp spikes of the fresh ice — as if the year 
That died last night, had dropt down suddenly 
In his full strength of genial government, 
Prisoning the sharp breath of the Northern winds; 
Who now burst forth and revel unrestrained 
Over the new king's months of infancy. 

The bells rung merrily when the old year died ; 
He past away in music ; his death-sleep 
Closed on him like the slumber of a child 
When a sweet hymn in a sweet voice above him 
Takes up into its sound his gentle being. 



POEMS. 61 

And we will raise to him two monuments ; 
One where he died, and one where he lies buried ; 
One in the pealing of those midnight bells. 
Their swell and fall, and varied interchange. 
The tones that come again upon the spirit 
In years far off, mid unshaped accidents; — 
And one in the deep quiet of the soul. 
The mingled memories of a thousand moods 
Of joy and sorrow; — and his epitaph 
Shall be upon him — '' Here lie the remains 
Of one, who was less valued while he lived. 
Than thought on, when he died." 



62 POEMS. 



VII, 



LAST WORDS. 



Refresh me with the bright blue violet, 

And put the pale faint- scented primrose near;, 
For I am breathing yet: 

Shed not one silly tear. 
But when mine eyes are set 
Scatter the fresh flowers thick upon my bier. 
And let my early grave with morning dew be wet. 

I have passed swiftly o'er the pleasant earth. 
My life hath been the shadow of a dream ; 
The joyousness of birth 

Did ever with me seem: 
My spirit had no dearth, 
But dwelt for ever by a full swift stream, 
Lapt in a golden trance of never-failing mirth. 



LAST WORDS. t)3 

Touch me once more, my father, ere my hand 
Have not an answer for thee; — kiss my cheek 
Ere the blood fix and stand 

Where flits the hectic streak ; 
Give me thy last command. 
Before I lie all undisturbed and meek. 
Wrapt in the snowy folds of funeral swathing-band. 



64 POEMS. 



VIII. 



A REMEMBRANCE. 



Hiulf r] /ud0?jat9 ovk dWo tl tj dvdfxvyjcn^ Tvy ydveL ourra, kul kuto. 
TOVTOV ai/ay/cjj irov ?;/xa§ ev Trporepiv tivl XP'^^'V fJiefxadijKevaL a vvv 

Plato. Phado, <j. 47. 



Methinks I can remember^ when a shade 

All soft and flowery was my couch, and I 

A little naked child with fair white flesh 

And wings all gold-bedropt : and o'er my head 

Bright fruits were hanging, and tall balmy shrubs 

Shed odorous gums around me; and I lay 

Sleeping and waking in that wondrous air 

Which seemed infused with glory — and each breeze 

Bore, as it wandered by, sweet melodies. 

But whence I knew not: — one delight was there. 

Whether of feeling or of sight or touch 

I know not now — which is not on this earth, 

Something all glorious and all beautiful 



A REMEMBRANCE. 

Of which our language speaketh not^ and which 
Flies from the eager graspings of my thought, 
As doth the shade of a forgotten dream. 
All knowledge had I ; but I cared not then 
To search into my soul and draw it thence: 
The blessed creatures that around me played 
I knew them all, and where their resting was, 
And all their hidden symmetries I knew. 
And how the form is linked unto the soul, 
I knew it all; but thought not on it then, 
I was so happy. 

And upon a time 
I saw an army of bright beamy shapes. 
Fair-faced and rosy-cinctured and gold-winged, 
Approach upon the air : they came to me ; 
And from a chrystal chalice silver-brimmed 
Put sparkling potion to my lips, and stood 
All round me in the many -blooming shade. 
Shedding into the centre where I lay 
A mingling of soft light; and then they sung 
Songs of the land they dwelt in : and the last 
Lingereth even till now upon mine ear. 



65 



66 POEMS. 

Holy and blest 
Be the calm of thy rest, 
For thy chamber of sleep 
Shall be dark and deep ; 
They will dig thee a tomb 
In the dark deep womb. 
In the warm dark womb. 

Spread ye, spread the dew)^ mist around him. 
Spread ye, spread, till the thick dark night surround him, 
Till the dark long night hath bound him, 
Which bindeth all before their birth 

Down upon the nether earth. 
The first cloud is beamy and bright. 
The next cloud is mellowed in light, 
The third cloud is dim to the sight. 
And it stretcheth away into gloomy night : 
Twine ye, twine the mystic threads around him, 
Twine ye, twine — till the fast firm fate surround him. 
Till the firm cold fate hath bound him. 
Which bindeth all before their birth 
Down upon the nether earth. 



A remp:mbrance. 67 

The first thread is beamy and bright, 
The next thread is mellowed in light, 
The third thread is dim to the sight, 
And it stretcheth away into gloomy night : — 

Sing ye, sing the spirit song around him. 
Sing ye, sing till the dull warm sleep surround him. 
Till the warm damp sleep hath bound him. 
Which bindeth all before their birth 
Down upon the nether earth. 
The first dream is beamy and bright. 
The next dream is mellowed in light. 
The third dream is dim to the sight, 
And it stretcheth away into gloomy night: — 

Holy and blest 

Is the calm of thy rest. 

For thy chamber of sleep 

Is dark and deep ; 

They have dug thee a tomb 

In the dark deep womb. 

The warm dark womb. 



68 POEMS. 

Then dimness past upon me: and that song 
Was sounding o'er me when I woke again 
To be a pilgrim on the nether earth. 

Twine ye, twine the mystic threads around him. 
Twine ye, twine — till the fast firm fate surround him. 
Till the firm cold fate hath bound him. 
Which bindeth all before their birth 
Down upon the nether earth. 



BALLAD. 69 



IX. 



BALLAD. 



The Baron is back from his hawking come^ 

At the close of the summer's day : 
But the spots of red blood danced over his eyes 

That he might not see the play — 

And the heavy deep bells were tolling. 

The Baron is back to his banquet come. 

And hath sat him down to dine; 
But his thoughts they ran on the red red blood 

That he might not taste the wine — 

And the heavy deep bells were tolling. 

Now where were ye, sister, when I rode by. 

For ye were not in your bower : — 
Oh I was chasing a bright butterfly 

That flew from flower to flower — 

Where the summer rose-buds were blowing. 



70 POEMS. 

And where were ye, sister, when I rode back, 

For ye were not in your hall: — 
Oh I was watching the large sun set 

From off the castle wall — 

When the yellow wall-flowers were closing. 

But where were ye, sister, at mid of night. 

For ye were not laid asleep : — 
Oh I looked for love of the pale round moon 

In the moat so still and deep — 

When the loud night-birds were singing. 

The Baron looked over the castle trees 

At the turning of the sun ; 
And that Lady wailed and tossed her hands 

As she would never have done — 

For her own true-love she's weeping. 

The Baron looked over the dim church-yard 

As the moon was on the wane; 
And that Lady lay by a new-turned grave. 

She may rise never again — 

With her own true-love she's sleeping. 



BALLAD. 71 



— Now up, thou Baron of Taunton tower, 

To the holy cloister flee ; 
For thou hast slain the truest pair 

In all the West countree. 

And the heavy deep bells are tolling. 



72 POEMS. 



X. 



TO THE ANGEL OF GUIDO. 



Whereto shall I liken thee. 

Thou with sunbright eyes divine? 
Twilight never dimmeth thee. 

Evermore thy sharp eyes shine; 
Thou art like the morning star 

On the forehead of the day. 
Looking earthward from afar 

When the night clouds float away ;- 

Thou art like the sparkling fly 
Dancing on the Eastern night. 

Through a trellised gallery, 
Up and down all fiery bright; 



TO THE ANGEL OF GUIDO. 78 

Thou art like a starry flower 

Hidden in a mist of green. 
From beneath a woven bower 

Here and there in glimpses seen. 

All bright things are not so bright, 

Not so deep as are thine eyes ; 
Not the hollow blue at night, 

Fading into other skies; 
Not the blue Forget-me-not, 

Bright and deep although it be ; 
Not the rays from chrystals shot, 

Nor the twinkling summer sea. 

Fix thy full deep eyes on me. 

Let me lose my being there ; 
Let me pass out into thee 

From my house of sin and care: 
Surely all thine inner soul 

Whence such lights for ever shine. 
Must with mild and sweet controul 

Purify and brighten mine. 

VOL. I. D 



74 POEMS. 

Or if this may never be. 

Fix them full upon me still; 
Let me borrow light from thee; — 

Losing all my thought and will. 
Quite absorbed, and emptied quite,- 

In their lustrous brightness lost,— 
All my sunshine turned to night, — 

I'm contented with the cost. 



POEMS. 75 



XI. 



We looked into the silent sky. 

We gazed upon thee, lovely Moon: 
And thou wert shining clear and bright 
In night's unclouded noon. 

And it was sweet to stand and think 

Amidst the deep tranquillity. 

How many eyes at that still hour 

Were looking upon thee. 

The exile on the foreign shore 

Hath stood and turned his eye on thee 
And he hath thought upon his days 
Of hope and infancy ; 
d2 



76 POEMS. 

And he hath said there may be those 

Gazing upon thy beauty now. 
Who stamped the last, the burning kiss 
Upon his parting brow. 

The captive in his grated cell 

Hath cast him in thy peering light ; 
And looked on thee, and almost blest 
The solitary night. 

The infant slumbereth in his cot. 

And on him is thy liquid beam : 
And shapes of soft and faery light 
Have mingled in his dream. 

The sick upon the sleepless bed 

Scared by the dream of wild unrest, 
The fond and mute companionship 
Of thy sweet ray hath blest. 

The mourner in thy silver beam 

Hath laid his sad and wasted form: 
And felt that there is quiet there 
To calm his inward storm. 



POEMS. 77 



— I looked — and on the eyes I loved 

A dewy tear was glistening ; 
And since that night, our hope of bliss 
Hath been a sacred thing. 



\ 
78 POEMS. 



XII. 



MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS. 

'Tis just the moment when Time hangs in doubt 
Between the parting and the coming day : 
The deep clock tolleth twelve — and its full tide 
Of swelling sound pours out upon the wind: 
The bright cold stars are glittering from the sky. 
And one of large light, fairer than the rest. 
Looks through yon screen of leaf-deserted limes. 

Not undelightful are the trains of thought 
That usher in my midnights. Thou art there 
Whom my soul loveth; in that calm still hour 
Thy image floats before mine inward eye. 
Placid as is the season, wrapt in sleep. 
And heaving gently with unconscious breath ; 



MIDNIGHT THOUGHTS. 79 

While thy bright guardian watches at thy head. 
Unseen of mortal, through the nightly hours, 
Active against intrusion on thy mind 
Of aught unholy : careful to preserve 
The sanctuary of thy spirit swept and pure 
For early worship when thine eyelids wake. 
Sleep softly, and wake softly ! — may thy dreams 
Be all of Heaven, as mine are all of Thee .' 



80 POEMS. 



XIII. 



A DOUBT. 



Wisdom is oft-times nearer when we stoop 
Than when we soar. Wordsworth. 



I KNOW not how the right may be : — 
But I give thanks whene'er I see 
Down in the green slopes of the West 
Old Glastonbury's towered crest. 

I know not how the right may be: — 
But I have oft had joy to see 
By play of chance my road beside 
The Cross on which the Saviour died. 

I know not how the right may be : — 
But I loved once a tall elm tree 
Because between its boughs on high 
That Cross was opened on the sky. 



A DOUBT. 81 

I know not how the right may be : — 
But I have shed strange tears to see, 
Passing an unknown town at night. 
In some warm chamber full of light 
A Mother and two Children fair 
Kneeling with lifted hands at prayer. 

I know not how it is — my boast 
Of Reason seems to dwindle down ; 
And my mind seems down-argued most 
By forced conclusions not her own. 

I know not how it is — unless 
Weakness and strength are near allied; 
And joys which most the spirit bless 
Are furthest off from earthly pride. 



B D 



82 POEMS. 



XIV. 



I HAVE found Peace in the bright earth 

And in the sunny sky : 
By the low voice of summer seas. 

And where streams murmur by ; 

I find it in the quiet tone 

Of voices that I love : 
By the flickering of a twilight fire. 

And in a leafless grove; 

I find it in the silent flow 

Of solitary thought: 
In calm half-meditated dreams. 

And reasonings self-taught ; 



POEMS. 

But seldom have I found such peace 

As in the soul's deep joy 
Of passing onward free from harm 

Through every day's employ. 

If gems we seek, we only tire. 
And lift our hopes too high ; 

The constant flowers that line our way 
Alone can satisfy. 



84 POEMS. 



XV. 



To-morrow — 'tis an idle sound, 

Tell me of no such dreary thing — 

A new land whither I am bound 
After strange wandering. 

What care I if bright blossoms there 
Unfold, and sunny be the field ; 

If laded boughs in Summer air 
Their pulpy fruitage yield? 

While deck to-day my pleasant bower 
Upon my own loved mountain-side 

The azure periwinkle-flower 
And violet deep-eyed.^ 



POEMS. 85 



Tell nie not of to-morrow — calm 
In his great hand I would abide 

Who fills my present hour with balm, 
And trust, whate'er betide. 



Sd 



XVI. 



I SOUGHT for Novelty — in vain 

I searched the stores of Nature through 
But now the object wished I gain — 

Thy mercies. Lord, are ever new. 

I sought for Beauty — set of sun. 

And rainbow, and the rising hght, — 

These all were fair, but quickly gone ; 
Thy face, my God, is always bright. 

I sought Fidelity — some friends 

Have fallen away, and some endure : 

And Death the firmest love-knot rends ; — 
Thy Love, O Lord alone is sure. 



POEMS. 87 

I sought for Truth — the more I sought 

A living lie around me grew ; 
False was all joy, all speech, all thought — 

Thy promise, Lord, alone is true. 



88 



XVII. 



SIGN OF THE CROSS IN BAPTISM. 

In token that thou shalt not fear 

Christ crucified to own. 
We print the Cross upon thee here, 

And stamp thee his alone. 

In token that thou shalt not blush 

To glory in his name, 
We blazon here upon thy front 

His glory and his shame. 

In token that thou shalt not flinch 
Christ's quarrel to maintain. 

But 'neath his banner manfully 
Firm at thy post remain: 



ON THE SIGN OF THE CROSS IN BAPTISM. 89 

In token that thou too shalt tread 

The path he travelled hy, 
Endure the cross, despise the shame, 

And sit thee down on high : 

Thus outwardly and visibly 

We seal thee for his own : 
And may the brow that wears his Cross, 

Hereafter share his crown. 



90 POEMS. 



XVIIL 



HYMN FROM A MISSAL, 

Thou that art the Father's Word, 
Thou that art the Lamb of God, 
Thou that art the Virgin's Son, 
Thou that savest souls undone, 
Sacred sacrifice for sin, 
Fount of piety within. 

Hail, Lord Jesus. 

Thou to whom Thine angels raise 
Quiring songs of sw^eetest praise, 
Thou that art the flower and fruit, 
Virgin born from Jesse's root. 
Shedding holy peace abroad. 
Perfect man and perfect God ; 

Hail, Lord Jesus. 



HYMN FROM A MISSAL. 91 

Thou that art the door of heaven, 
Living bread in mercy given. 
Brightness of the Father's face. 
Everlasting Prince of Peace, 
Precious pearl beyond all price, 
Brightest star in all the skies. 

Hail, Lord Jesus. 

King and Spouse of holy hearts. 
Fount of Love that ne'er departs. 
Sweetest life, and brightest day. 
Truest truth, and surest way 
That leads onward to the blest 
Sabbath of eternal Rest, 

Hail, Lord Jesus. 



POEMS. 



XIX. 



AMOR MUNDANUS. 



Freed from the womb, and from the bounds 

With which the stepdame infancy 
Our days of pupillage surrounds, 

We spring up beautiful and free ; 
Divine in form, divine in grace. 

All wonderful to those who look 
Upon the heavenly-printed face. 

In which as in a living book 
The characters of high descent 
Are seen with air and motion blent. 

Behold the curious Babe exploring 

The furniture of its new earth ; 
And Time with ministrant hand restoring 

The bloom and strength it lost in birth ; 



A3IOR MUNDANUS. ^3 

It is as though some magic power 

Had shut the senses of a Bride, 
And in strange air from hour to hour 

She breathed away the summer-tide. 
And woke and found herself alone 
And all her sweet fore-castings gone; 

It is as though she should not wear 

The weeds of sober wddowhood. 
But just to memory give a tear, 

Then rise with stirring hope renewed ; 
And ere the period of the Sun 

In joyful garments habited 
Leaning upon another One, 

Should walk the flowery path to wed ; 
And build among new children's eyes, 
A home of rooted sympathies. 

Child — that dost evermore desire 

For something thou canst call thine own ; 

In summer sun, by winter fire 
Jealously bent to rule alone; 



94> 



Thou gatherest round thee plenteous store 
Wherewith to sate thy longing sight ; 

Thou ever hast, and wishest more, 
And so thou schoolest thy delight 

To drink at every little stream 

And bask in every daily beam. 

And when thy limbs are proud and strong, 

Thou seekest out a home to last. 
Among the dainties that belong 

To the strange shore where thou art cast; 
For kisses and kind words bestowed 

Thou quittest hope, and all content 
Thou takest up thy calm abode 

In the country of thy banishment; 
Careless of tidings that relate 
To winning back thy lost estate. 



AMOR CGELESTIS. 9«^ 



XX. 



AMOR CCELESTIS. 



I HAVE a longing to be free ; 

The soul that in me hides 
Its mouldering fires, unwillingly 

Its day of liberation bides. 

Clouds, that above the flowery earth 

Float onward in the air. 
Rejoice as each day hath its birth. 

They hurry on they list not where : 

Birds, that along their gladsome way 

Flutter in wavy flight. 
Pipe in their arbours all the day 

And rest upon their branch at night 



y6 POEMS. 

Stars, like a fleet of glittering sail 

On the upper ocean driven. 
At the western haven never fail 

To cease from earth and enter heaven ; 

And then forth issuing from the east 
When night winds softly blow. 

They ride in order bright and blest. 

Their clustered myriads none may know 

Only this breath of life divine 

May not escape away. 
Nor move in the gold rays that shine 

Around the blessed eye of day. 

Only this bird of sweetest strain 
Must hide its notes in gloom; 

Only this purest flower from stain 
In secret places veil its bloom. 

Only this star of clearest light 

Hath not its course above: 
But undistinguished from the night 

It dwells on earth, and wins no love. 



POEMS. 97 



XXI. 



When I am in my grave 

The busy clouds will wander on ; 

This Moon that silver-tips each dancing wave 
Will shine as it hath shone. 

When I am low in ground 

The Spring will call and wake the flowers, 
And yonder little knoll will show as gay 

As it hath bloomed when ours. 

When I am in the sky 

Long leagues above the evening-star. 
The city hum shall sound as fitfully 

As now it comes from far. 

VOL I. E 



98 POEMS. 

When I am spirit clear, 

More pure than is this ocean Moon, 
The false world in the great Eternal's ear 

Shall make no better tune. 

God, lift me from the power 

Of flesh-corruption; how shall I 

Bear to be borne along with stainless flower 
And fleec}^ cloud on high? 

God, lift up unto me 

The sinning heart of human-kind ; 
How can I flutter down the skies and see 

Their errant souls and blind? 

Or wrap me in the light 

That folds thy glory's outer zone ; 
Be thou the sole horizon to my sight, 

Content in Thee alone. 



ON THE DAY OF GENERAL THANKSGIVING. 99 



XXII. 

WRITTEN ON THE DAY OF GENERAL THANKSGIVIiNG, 

April 14, 1833. 

Surely, methinks, this Sabbath morn 
Some brighter sunshine should adorn 

Than Heaven vouchsafes on common days ; 
And buds should burst, and all the throng 
Of busy warblers crowd their song 

To help the race of man to praise. 

But on its birth no sun hath shined; 
Ever the deep voice of the wind 

Sweepeth the tree-tops far and near: 
And on the branches not a bird 
As on past morning-tides, is heard. 

But all is winter-bound and drear. 
e2 



100 POEMS. 

Yet this ungladsome sky may teach 
A lesson^, and these winds may preach 

A sermon in the nation's ear ; 
And souls not all unapt to learn 
Some dim forebodings may discern 

Of new disquietude and fear. 

Great God, with trembling we rejoice ; 
The echo of thy warning voice 

Yet vibrates in the middle air : 
Not yet thy glittering sword of death 
Is peaceful laid within its sheath. 

Ready to strike, as now to spare. 



HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING. 101 



XXIII. 



HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING. 

Stand up before your God 

You arm}' bold and bright;, 
Saints martyrs and confessors 

In your robes of white; 
The Church below doth challenge you 

To an act of praise : 
Ready with mirth in all the earth 

Her matin song to raise. 

Stand up before your God 

In beautiful array. 
Make ready all your instruments 

The while we mourn and pray ; 



102 POEMS. 

For we must stay to mourn and pray 

Some prelude to our song; 
The fear of death has clogged our breath 

And our foes are swift and strong. 

But ye before your God 

Are hushed from all alarm. 
Out through the grave and gate of death 

Ye have past into the calm; 
Your fight is done, your victory won. 

Through peril and toil and blood: 
Among the slain on the battle plain 

We buried ye where ye stood. 

Stand up before your God, 

Although we cannot hear 
The new song he hath taught you 

With our fleshly ear; 
Our bosoms burn that hymn to learn. 

And from the church below 
Even while we sing, on heavenward wing 

Some happy souls shall go. 



HYMN FOR ALL SAINTS DAY IN THE MORNING. 10 

Ye stand before your God, 

But we press onward still. 
The soldiers of his army. 

The servants of his will : 
A captive band in foreign land 

Long ages we have been; 
But our dearest theme and our fondest dream 

Is the home we have not seen. 

We soon shall meet our God, 

The hour is waxing on, 
The day-spring from on high hath risen. 

And the night is spent and gone; 
The light of Earth it had its birth 

And it shall have its doom ; 
The Sons of Earth they are few in birth 

But many in the tomb. 



104 POEMS. 



XXIV. 

THE PASSION OF ST AGNES. 

From Prudentius Trepi (rretpdviov. 

Near the town of Romulus, 
Faithful Maid and Martyr blest, 

Agnes hath her sepulchre; 
From her holy place of rest 
She can see the city towers, 

She can hear the city stir; 
There she watches, there she wons, 
Rome preserving and her sons. 
Pilgrim guiding on his way. 
Blessing them that purely pray. 

Double crown of martyrdom 

She hath granted her ; 
Chaste unspotted virginal. 
Glory of a willing death. 



THE PASSION Ot' ST AGNES. 105 

Christ-devoted;, she had scorned 

Idol sacrifice to pay ; — 

They had searched her long and sore. 

Balancing her soul between 

Offers thick of ease and bliss. 

Iron-hearted threats of pain ; 

Mild and proud she looked on them. 

Ye may take and try me here. 

So believe me, as ye see 

Joy look from me in the fires. 

Praises when ye list for cries. 

Then the stark tormentor said, 
It is easy to hush down 
Struggling pain when life is cheap ; 
But she hath a precious gem ; 
Do she not our sacrifice. 
Into public place impure 
Be she led, and peril make 
Of the pearl she loveth best ; 
I^e she selleth but to buy 

Visions of untasted bliss; 

May be she will sell her dreams 
To redeem her chastity. 
E 5 



t06 ■ Poems. 

Then the holy Agnes said, 
Deem ye never that my Christ 
Will forget his chosen so. 
As to let the golden crown 
Of my virgin brow be dimmed; 
Ye may crust your steel with blood, 
But my Christ and I have sworn 
These his members bright and pure 
Earthy lust shall never soil. 

Thus she boasted, and was led 
Blessed, in unblessed wise, 
Where the public pavements meet; 
There she stood, and every face 
Of the reverential crowd 
Turned away in fear and shame, 
That they might not lightly look 
On the holy treasure there; 
One alone with slippery eye 
Rashly dared her form to scan; 
Swiftly leapt the winged fire 
Down upon his truant sight; 
Dazzled with the glory-flame 
Prone he fell and quivering lay ; 



THE PASSION OF ST AGNES. 10? 

Him his comrades lifting slow. 
Bore away with words of dole. 

She in holy triumph went 
Hymning Christ with liquid song; — 
One step hath she neared the door 
Of the palace of the skies. 
Yet another she must climb j — 
Angry shouts the vanquished foe 

Fierce defiance — Bare thy sword. 
Do our hest, and strike her low. 

When the blessed Agnes saw 
Near her gleam the naked blade. 
This, she cried with lightsome cheer. 
Is the lover shall be mine; 
Rather this, though icy chill 
Be its edge and pitiless. 
Than some youth of odours breathing. 
Falsest vows in roses wreathing. 
I will go to meet its suit. 
So with Christ above the arch 
Of yon heaven, a Virgin Spouse, 
Shall my marriage feast begin. 



108 POEMS. 

Husband;, roll thou back the doors 
Of thy golden banquet house; 

Call me, I will follow thee. 
Virgin Victim, Virgin Spouse. 

So she spoke, and bent her head 
Blessed, in adoring wise ; 
Once above her gleamed the steel. 
Then the sacred river flowed 
That makes glad the city of God ; 
Then her spirit bounded forth 
Free into the liquid air ; 
Angels lined her upward way 
With a path of snowy light. 
Marvelling she beholds the earth 
Under-spread her mounting feet. 
Sees the shades beneath her roll 
Round about the monstrous world; 
Laughs to scorn the life of men 
Tossed on waves of vanity : 
Laughs the pomp of kings to scorn. 
Robes, and gilded palaces, 
Thirst of gold, and lust of power. 
All our envy, all our hope. 



THK PASSION OF ST AGNES. 10.9 

Agnes, in thy triumph high, 

Faithful Maid and Martyr blest. 
Treading in thy victory 

On the ancient Dragon's crest. 
Crowned by God with double crown 

On thy clear and shining brow, 
Happy Virgin, look thou down 

On the souls that wrestle now. 



110 POEMS. 



XXV. 



HYMN TO THE SUN. 



Methinks my spirit is too free 
To come before thy presence high, 
Obtruding on the earth and sky 

Aught but their solemn joy at greeting thee ; 

Methinks I should confess 

Some awe, at standing in the way 
Of this thy pomp at birth of day, 

Troubling thy sole unrivalled kingliness. 

Glorious Conqueror, unfolding 

Over the purple distance 

Thy might beyond resistance 
Upon the charmed earth : that waits beholding 



HYMN TO THE SUN. Ill 

The fulness of thy glory, ere she dare 

To tell thee she rejoices 

With all her myriad voices, 
Too modest-meek thy first-born joys to share. 

As the mingled blazing 

Of a pomp of armed bands. 

Over a strait into other lands. 
Gladdens the sea-boy from the cliff-side gazing; 
Watching the dazzling triumph pass. 

Rolling onward deep and bright 

With shifting waves of light. 
From floating of crimson banners, and horns of 
wreathed brass; 

As the beacon to that scout of old 

Searching the benighted sky 

With watch-wearied eye. 
Brought sudden gratulation manifold; 
Bridging all the furrowed waves between 

Ida and Athos, and the Lemnian steep. 

And ^giplanctus, and the deep 
Roll of the bay of Argos, with a track of sheen ; 



112 POEMS. 

So joyous on this Eastward-fronting lawn 

After the keen-starred night 

The lifting of thy light 
Fulfilleth all the promise of the dawn ; 
Like the bursting of a golden flood 

Now flowing onward fast 

Over the dewy slopes^ now cast 
Among flushed stems on yonder bank of wood. 

With such a pomp methinks thou didst arise 

When hand in hand divinely fair 

The fresh-awakened pair 
Stood gazing from thick-flowered Paradise : 
Uncertain whether thou wert still the same 

They saw sink down at night, 

Or some great new- created light. 
Or the glory of some Seraph as he downward came. 

Thus didst thou rise that first unclouded morn 

Over the waters blank and still. 

When on the Assyrian hill 
Rested the ark, and the new world was born : 



HYMN TO THE SUN. 11. S 

And when upon the strange unpeopled land. 

With hands outspread and lifted eyes 

Stood round the primal sacrifice. 
Under a bright-green mount, the Patriarchal band. 

With seven-fold glory thou shalt usher in 

The new and mighty birth 

Of the latter earth; 
With seven days' light that morning shall begin, 
Waking new songs and many an Eden-flower ; 

While over the hills and plains shall rise 

Bright groups, and saintly companies. 
And never a cloud shall blot thee — never a tempest 
lour. 



114 POEfllS. 



XXVI. 



HYMN TO THE SEA. 



Who shall declare the secret of thy birth. 
Thou old companion of the circling earth? 
And having reached with keen poetic sight 

Ere beast or happy bird 

Through the vast silence stirred. 
Roll back the folded darkness of the primal night? 

Corruption-like, thou teemedst in the graves 
Of mouldering systems, with dark weltering waves 
Troubling the peace of the first mother's womb; 

Whose ancient awful form 

With inly-tossing storm 
Unquiet heavings kept — a birth-place and a tomb. 



HYMN TO THE SEA. 115 

Till the life-giving Spirit moved above 
The face of the waters, with creative love 
Warming the hidden seeds of infant light : 
What time the mighty word 
Through thine abyss was heard. 
And swam from out thy deeps the young day heavenly 
bright. 

Thou and the earth, twin-sisters as they say. 
In the old prime were fashioned in one day ; 
And therefore thou delightest evermore 
With her to lie and play 
The summer hours away. 
Curling thy loving ripples up her quiet shore. 

She is a married matron long ago 
With nations at her side ; her milk doth flow 
Each year; but thee no husband dares to tame; 

Thy wild will is thine own. 

Thy sole and virgin throne — 
Thy mood is ever changing — thy resolve the same. 

Sunlight and moonlight minister to thee ; — 
O'er the broad circle of the shoreless sea 



116 



POEMS. 



Heaven's two great lights for ever set and rise ; 
While the round vault above 
In vast and silent love 
Is gazing down upon thee with his hundred eyes. 

All night thou utterest forth thy solemn moan. 
Counting the weary minutes all alone : 

Then in the morning thou dost calmly lie 

Deep-bluC;, ere yet the sun 

His day-work hath begun, 
Under the opening windows of the golden sky. 

The Spirit of the mountain looks on thee 
Over an hundred hills : quaint shadows flee 
Across thy marbled mirror : brooding lie 

Storm-mists of infant cloud 

With a sight-baffling shroud 
MantUng the grey-blue islands in the Western sky. 

Sometimes thou liftest up thine hands on high 
Into the tempest-cloud that blurs the sky. 
Holding rough dalliance with the fitful blast; 

Whose stiff breath whistling shrill 

Pierces with deadly chill 
The wet crew feebly clinging to their shattered mast. 



HYMN TO THE SEA. 117 

Foam- white along the border of the shore 
Thine onward-leaping billows plunge and roar; 
While o'er the pebbly ridges slowly glide 

Cloaked figures, dim and gray 

Through the thick mist of spray. 
Watchers for some struck vessel in the boiling tide. 

— Daughter and darling of remotest eld — 
Time's childhood, and Time's age thou hast beheld; 
His arm is feeble, and his eye is dim : 

He tells old tales again — 

He wearies of long pain: — 
Thou art as at the first — thou journiedst not with him. 



lis POEMS. 



XXVIL 



I STAND upon the margin of our level lake; 
The daylight from the West is fading fast away ; 
The rooks above the wood their evening concert make. 
And in the gleaming pool the fishes leap and play. 

Eastward appearing dimly through the golden haze 
The moon in perfect circle lifts her solemn light; 
The waters tremble ever with a restless blaze, 
With ripples and wood-shadows dappled dark and bright. 

Why is my deathless spirit bound to minister 

To transient matter ? fettered to this vision fair 

I seem to lose all breath, no thought hath power to stir: 

Ye take too much upon you, sights of earth and air ! 



POEMS. 119 

Is it some purpose high of fete or festival 
For Beings never pierced by edge of mortal sight ; 
And are there poured around me camping within call 
A beautiful throng of angels triumphing in delight? 

Is it for some pure Spirits torn on earth asunder 
Who long long years have pined in solitude and woe 
To meet together here, and speak their love and wonder. 
And feast on joy that none but risen souls can know? 

Might I but reach the secret of that hidden power 
That dwells in the mute children of our parent Earth, 
The magic that can bind together in one hour 
Contented joy, and yearnings for our mightier birth ! 



120 POEMS. 



XXVIII. 



''Father, wake — the storm is loud 

The rain is falling fast; 
Let me go to my Mother's grave 

And screen it from the blast ; 
She cannot sleep, she will not rest, 

The wind is roaring so ; 
We prayed that she might lie in peace— 

My Father, let us go." 

''Thy Mother sleeps too firm a sleep 

To heed the wind that blows; 
There are Angel-charms that hush the noise 

From reaching her repose. 
Her spirit in dreams of the blessed Land 

Is sitting at Jesu's feet; 
Child, nestle thee in mine arms and pray 

Our rest may be as sweet." 



WRITTEN DURING AN AURORA BOREALIS. 121 



XXIX. 



WRITTEN DURING AN AURORA BOREALIS, 
January 7, 1831. 

Lo, where they play, the fiery squadrons bright^ 
Along the spangled azure of the night; 
Waving aloft their ensigns, where the while 
Wheels to the sphered music many a file 
Of heavenly soldiery — and poured on high 
Far o'er the Orient and the southern sky, 
Fair stations of still fire their watches keep, 
O'er half the world entranced in slumber deep ; 
Or, issuing into brightness, dome and hall. 
And palace front distinct with columns tall. 
In mystic maze of varied light are driven 
Along the pictured concave of the Heaven: 
And ever and anon upon the North 
Vistas of rosy flame are opening forth, 

VOL. I. F 



122 ■ POEMS. 

And centres of intense and throbbing light 
Pour eddying brillance o'er the arch of Night. 

So, in the primal infancy of Man, 
Ere yet the desolating curse began, 
Hues of celestial sheen were wont to rise 
Far o'er the blosmy groves of Paradise; 
While the blest pair stood wondering to behold 
Shiftings of myriad gleams from wings of gold. 
And in a deeper glory faint descried. 
Mid blazonry of banners floating wide, 
Some Seraph Hierarch, on his aery way 
Companied earthward by that high array. 



PSALM XLVI. 123 



XXX. 



PSALM XLVI. 



God is our refuge and our strength 
When trouble's hour is near : 

A very present help is he, 
Therefore we will not fear : 

Although the pillars of the earth 

Shall clean removed be: 
The very mountains carried forth 

And cast into the sea : 

Although the waters rage and swell 
So that the earth shall shake ; 

Yea, and the solid mountain roots 
Shall with the tempest quake : 
p2 



124 POEMS. 

There is a river which makes glad 

The city of our God ; 
The tabernacle's holy place 

Of the Most High's abode. 

The Lord is in the midst of her^, 
Removed she shall not be. 

Because the Lord our God himself 
Shall help her speedily. 

The heathen lands make much ado, 
The kingdoms join the fray; 

But God hath shewed forth his voice. 
And the earth shall melt away. 

The Lord of hosts our refuge is 
When trouble's hour is near; 

The God of Jacob is with us. 
Therefore we will not fear. 



PSALM CXXXVII. 125 



XXXI. 



PSALM CXXXVII. 



By Babylon streams we sat us down and wept, 
When we remembered Zion mournfully; 
As for our harps, we hanged them up 
Upon the willow-trees that grew thereby. 

Then they that led us captive asked of us 
A song, and melody in our dreary day; 

Come sing us one of Zion's songs — 
How can we sing the Lord's song far away ? 

If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, 

Let my right hand forget her best employ; 

Let my tongue cleave unto my mouth. 
If I prefer not thee to all my joy. 



126 POEMS. 

Remember, Lord, remember Edom's sons, 

How they stood round and shouted in their mirth. 

At the dark day of Jerusalem — 
Down with it, down with it, even to the earth. 

Daughter of Babylon, thy doom is sealed — 
Yea, happy he who deals thee recompence ; 

And dasheth down upon the stones 
With ruthless hands thy helpless innocents. 



PSALM XXIV. 127 



XXXII. 



PSALM XXIV. 



CHORUS OF ANGELS. 

The Earth is God's; the fullness too 

Of all that therein is; 
Upon the floods he founded it;, 

And built it on the seas. 

SEMI-CHORUS I. 

Who shall go up the hill of God, 
And in his dwelling stand .^ 

SEMI-CHORUS II, 

Even the man of pure intent 
And undefiled hand. 



128 POEMS. 



CHORUS. 



Who hath not lifted up his heart 

To trust in vanity; 
Nor dealt untruly by his friend. 

Nor sworn deceitfully. 
The family of Israel, 

The men who seek his face. 
These shall be blest and righteous held 

Before the God of Grace. 

SEMI-CHORUS I. 

Lift up your heads, ye gates. 
And be ye lifted up. 
Ye everlasting doors; 
And the King of Glory shall come in. 

SEMl-CHORUS II. 

Who is the King of Glory ? 

SEMI-CHORUS I. 

Jehovah strong and mighty, 
Jehovah strong in battle. 



PSALM XXIV. 129 

SEMI-CHORUS II. 

Lift up your heads, ye gates. 
And be ye lifted up. 
Ye everlasting doors; 
And the King of Glory shall come in. 

SEMI-CHORUS 1. 

Who is the King of Glory? 

CHORUS. 

Jehovah of Sabaoth, 

He is the King of Glory. 



F.5 



130 POEMS. 



XXXIII. 



Thou little flower, that on thy stem 

Totterest as the breezes blow. 
There is no strife with thee and them— 

They kiss thee as they go. 
The pretty Lambs welcome their life 

In the fresh morning of the year ; 
Taking no forethought of the knife, 

They play and do not fear. 

Bow down thy head, thou little flower. 

Shew not so trim and gay; 
Lie still and pass thine evil hour — 

Look up another day. 
Thou pretty Lamb, on tender sward 

No more quaint gambols take ; 
Cheat thy soft life of fate so hard. 

Lie still and do not wake. 



POEMS, 131 

They will not heed; for some kind Power 

Long as the sun and stars remain, 
Hath cast together in one hour 

The lots of joy and pain. 
From conflict of the stern and mild 

Rises the life of gentlest things. 
And out of mixtures strange and wild 

Most quiet beauty springs. 



^o2 POEMS. 



XXXIV. 



There is a wood, not far from where I pass 
My unrecorded hours in pleasant toil; — 
Each tangle of the spreading boughs I know. 
And where each bird doth nestle; every pool 
That makes a mirror for the quivering leaves; 
The days are past when I could wander on 
And lose myself, expecting at each turn 
New pillared avenues of stately trees, 
And glimpses of far waters. 

Even thus 
Will all the joy and beauty of this Earth 
Become familiar things; wonder shall yield 
To cold arrangement; and the voices deep 
Of the great Kings of Song shall cease to stir 



POEMS. 133 

Mine inner fount of tears. The power of God 
Shall not be thereby shortened in my soul. 
But in my weakness rather perfect made, 
In the sure progress of untroubled Love 
That heals the fevered heart; as in the morn 
Upon the fading of the partial stars 
Wins the calm Daylight, over all diffused. 



134 POEMS. 



XXXV. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 

INTRODUCTION. 

Glastonbury, anciently called Avalon, is a place much celebrated 
both in tradition and history. It was here, according to old legends, 
when the neighbouring moors were covered by the sea, that St Joseph 
of Arimathea landed, and built the first church in England. It was 
here that the glorious King Arthur was buried, with the inscription 

Tkit jatet '^ttitrus, xtx quontiam, rexque futttrus. 
It was here that the scarcely less glorious King Alfred took sanc- 
tuary, and hence that he went into voluntary obscurity when the 
Danes invaded England. Here also was built that magnificent Abbey, 
whose riches and hospitality were known to all Christendom. Its last 
Abbot was murdered on the Tor-hill, by order of Henry the Eighth, 
and the building was sacrificed to the misguided fury of the Reform- 
ation. The very ruins are now fast perishing. 

The Quantock Hills, alluded to in the following Poem, are in the 
autumn profusely covered with the mingled blossoms of heath and 
furze. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 135 



The hills have on their royal robes 

Of purple and of gold, 
And over their tops the autumn clouds 

In heaps are onward rolled ; 
Below them spreads the fairest plain 

That British eye may see — 
From Quantock to the Mendip range, 

A broad expanse and free. 



As from, those barriers, grey and vast. 

Rolled off the morning mist. 
Leaving the eyesight unrestrained 

To wander where it list. 
So roll, thou ancient chronicler. 

The ages' mist away ; 
Give me an hour of vision clear, 

A dream of the former day. 



136 



POEMS. 



III. 



At once the flood of the Severn sea 

Flowed over half the plain. 
And a hundred capes^ with huts and trees, 

Above the flood remain : 
'Tis water here and water there, 

And the lordly Parret's way 
Hath never a trace on its pathless face — 

As in the former day. 



Of shining sails that thronged that stream 

There resteth never a one ; 
But a little ship to that inland sea 

Comes bounding in alone ; 
With stretch of sail and tug of oar 

It comes full merrily. 
And the sailors chant, as they pass the shore, 

^Ibi gloria IBominc. 



THE BALLAD OP GLASTONBURY 137 



" Nights and days on the watery ways 

Our vessel hath slidden on. 
Our arms have never tired of toil. 

Our stores have long been done; 
Sweet Jesus hath sped us over the wave, 

By coasts and along the sea. 
And we sing, as we pass each rising land, 

EiU gloria IBominc. 



VI. 

'' Sweet Jesus hath work for us to do 

In a land of promise fair ; 
Our vessel is steered by an angel-hand 

Until it bring us there : 
To our Captain given, a sign from heaven 

Our token true shall be; 
And we sing, as we wait for the Promise-sign, 

Vlihi gloria IBomine. 



138 POEMS. 



VII. 



" When a dark green hill shall spire aloft 

Into the pure blue sky, 
Most like to Tabor's holy mount 

Of vision blest and high ; 
Straight to that hill our bounding prow 

Unguided shall pass and free; 
Sweet Jesus hath spoken, and we believe— 

'iE^M gloria Bominc." 



VIII. 

Thus far they sung, and at once a shout 

Pealed upward loud and clear; 
For, lo! the vessel onward ran 

With never a hand to steer; 
And full in sight that Promise-hill 

Towered up into the sky. 
Most like to Tabor's holy mount 

Of vision blest and high. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. ISQ 



IX. 



Now raise the song, ye faithful crew, 

Let all the uplands hear; 
It fitteth Salvation's messengers 

To be of joyous cheer: 
For Avalon isle ye make the while 

By angel-pilot's hand; 
Right onward for that pointed hill, 

Straight to the sloping land. 



Each arm it is resting, and every eye 

With thankful tear is bright; 
Thus spake one high upon the prow, 

Feeding his forward sight: 
" The word of God is just and true. 

And the mountains green that stand 
To left and right in the morning light 

Lead on to our Promise-land. 



140 POEMS. 



XI. 



^' Sweet Jesus hath broken the sepulchre, 

And pours his golden grace. 
Clothing the earth with the joy of birth, 

In every fairest place; 
His servant asked a token sure. 

And a token sure is given ; 
And he that lay in the garden-tomb 

Is Lord of Earth and Heaven/' 



XII. 

By this the vessel had floated nigh 

To the turf upon the strand. 
And first that holy man of joy 

Stepped on the Promise-land; 
Until the rest in order blest 

Were ranged, and kneeling there. 
Gave blessing to the God of Heaven 

In a lowly chanted prayer. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 141 



XIII. 

Then over the brow of the seaward hill 

In their order blest they pass, 
At every change in the psalmody 

Kissing the holy grass; 
Till they come where they may see full near 

That pointed mountain rise^, 
Darkening with its ancient cone 

The light of the Eastern skies. 



XIV. 

"This staff hath borne me long and well/' 

Then' spake that Saint divine, 
*^'Over mountain and over plain. 

On quest of the Promise-sign ; 
For aye let it stand in this Western land. 

And God do more to me 
If there ring not out from this realm about 

V^ihi glocta IBomins. 



142 POEMS. 



XV. 



A cloud is on them, — the vision is changed^ 

And voices of melody. 
And a ring of harps, like twinkles bright, 

Come over the inland sea; 
Long and loud is the chant of praise, — 

The hallowed ages glide : — 
And once again the mist from the plain 

Rolls up the Mendip side. 



XVI. 

With mourning stole and solemn step, 

Up that same seaward hill. 
There moved of ladies and of knights 

A company sad and still ; 
There went before an open bier. 

And, sleeping in a charm. 
With face to heaven and folded palms 

There lay an armed form. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 143 



XVII. 

It is the winter deep, and all 

The glittering fields that morn 
In Avalon's isle were over-snowed 

The day the Lord was born; 
And as they cross the Northward brow. 

See white, but not with snow. 
The mystic thorn beside their path 

Its holy blossoms show. 



xvin. 

They carry him where from chapel low 

Rings clear the angel- bell, — 
He was the flower of knights and lords, 

So chant the requiem well; — 
His wound was deep, and his holy sleep 

Shall last him many a day. 
Till the cry of crime in the latter time 

Shall melt the charm away. 



144 POEMS. 



XIX. 



A cloud is on them — the vision fades — 

And cries of woe and fear, 
And sounds unblest of neighbouring war. 

Are thronging on mine ear: — 
Long and loud was the battle-cry. 

And the groans of them that died; 
And once again the mist from the plain 

Rolls up the Mendip side. 



XX. 

From the postern-door of an abbaye pile 

Passes with heavy cheer 
A sOldier-king in humble mien. 

For the shouting foes are near; 
The holy men by their altars bide. 

In alb and stole they stand ; 
The incense-fumes the temple fill 

From blessed children's hand. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY, 145 



XXI. 



Slow past the King that seaward brow, 

Whence turning he might see 
Streaming upon Saint Michael's Tor 

The Pagan blazonry; 
Then a pealing shout and a silence long, 

And rolling next on high 
Dark vapour laced with threads of flame 

Angered the twilight sky. 



XXII. 

The cloud comes on, the vision is changed — 

And songs of victory, 
And hymns of praise to the Lord of Peace, 

Come over the inland sea ; 
The waters clear, the fields appear. 

The plain is green and wide ; 
And once again the mist from the plain 

Rolls up the Mendip-side. 



VOL, I. 



14(5 POEMS. 



XXIII. 



The plats were green with lavish growth. 

And, like a silver cord, 
Down to the Northern bay the Brue 

Its glittering water poured; 
Far and near the pilgrims throng. 

With staff and humble mien. 
Where Glastonbury's crown of towers 

Against the sky is seen. 



XXIV. 

By the holy thorn and the holy well, 

And St Joseph's silver shrine. 
They offer thanks to highest Heaven 

For the Light and Grace divine; 
In the open cheer of the abbaye near. 

They dwell their purposed day. 
And then they part, with blessed thoughts, 

Each on his homeward way. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 14? 



The cloud drops down, the vision is changed. 

And an altered sound of pride. 
And a glitter of pomp is cast athwart 

The meadows green and wide. 
The servants of a lowly Lord 

On earth's high places ride; — 
And once again the mist from the plain 

Rolls up the Mendip-side. 



XXVI. 

The strong man armed hath dwelt in peace 

Till a stronger hath sacked his home ; 
And the church that married the pride of the earth 

By the earth is overcome: 
There hath sounded forth upon the land 

That wicked King's behest. 
And Lust and Power from Lust and Power 

A blighted triumph wrest. 



g2 



lis POEMS. 



XXVII. 



The winds are high in Saint Michael's Tor, 

And a sorry sight is there — 
A dark-browed band with spear in hand 

Mount up the turret-stair; 
With heavy ciieer and lifted palms 

There kneels a holy priest; 
The fiends of death they grudge his breath. 

To hold their rapine-feast. 



XXVIII. 

The cloud comes on them — the vision is changed- 

And a crash of lofty walls. 
And the short dead sound of music quenched. 

On the sickened hearing falls; 
Quick and sharp is the ruin cry, — 

Unblest the ages glide — 
And once again the mist from the plain 

Rolls up the Mendip-side. 



THE BALLAD OF GLASTONBURY. 14.9 



XXIX. 



Low-sloping over sea and field 

The setting ray had past. 
On roofs, and curls of quiet smoke 

The glory-flush was cast. 
Clustered upon the Western side 

Of Avalon's green hill. 
Her ancient homes and fretted* towers 

Were lying, bright and still; 



XXX. 

And lower, in the valley-field. 

Hid from the parting day, 
A brotherhood of columns old, 

A ruin rough and gray; 
And over all. Saint Michael's Tor 

Spired up into the sky — 
Most like to Tabor's holy mount 

Of vision blest and high. 



150 POEMS. 



XXXI. 



The vision changeth not— no cloud 

Comes down the Mendip-side; 
The moors spread out beneath my feet 

Their free expanse and wide; 
On glittering cots and ancient towerS;, 

That rise among the dells^, 
On mountain and on bending stream 

The light of evening dwells. 



XXXII. 

The funeral wail of pomp and pride 

Hath sunk away to rest; 
On to the misty future glide 

The ages not unblest; 
From shaded home, from field and hill, 

In peace and purity, 
The hymn goes up from England's heart, 

^ihi gloria Bomine." 



WRITTEN IN AN ARTIFICIAL PLEASURE-GROUND. 151 



XXXVI. 



WRITTEN IN AN ARTIFICIAL PLEASURE-GROUND. 

'Tis pretty, doubtless: water, grass, and trees. 
The man who hath a heart must always please: 
The morning glories from yon steaming lake 
A thousand colours into being wake ; 
The naked sunlight of the summer day " 
Is veil'd by boughs that overarch the way ; 
And moonlight sweetly in her silver flood 
Bathes the long reaches of the lawn and wood. 

But ever comes upon the sated breast 
A sense of incompleteness and unrest, 
A loathing of the fretfulness of men. 
And yearning for Earth's natural face again. 



152 POEMS. 

Thus when surprised our family circle bend 
Over some token sent us by a friend. 
Admire the traces of his happy art. 
Turn every side, and criticise each part, — 
Emblazoned in the tradesman's mystic lines, 
Lo at the back a three and sixpence shines ! 



PALINODE TO THE FOREGOING. 153 



XXXVII. 



PALINODE TO THE FOREGOING. 

Thus sung I in these grounds erewhile, perchance 
Tempted by sudden aptitude of words 
Into that measure which least pleaseth me. 
Sacred to Satire and unquiet thought. 
Forgive me, shades — forgive me, thou calm lake 
Of spreading water, quietly asleep 
Between thy fringing woods : Man is not less 
Than Nature holy ; and these records fair 
Of striving after likeness to the forms 
Of natural beauty may not be despised 
By man, as them imperfect ; rather stored 
Within the patient spirit, if perhaps 
The slow-learnt lesson of obeying God 

g5 



154 POEMS. 

By them be furthered, and the complete soul 

Pass from the fretful crowd of hopes and fears 

Into her silent oratory, where. 

With calm submission and unshaken trust, 

She may lay out herself to imitate 

All forms of beauty spiritual, and make 

A pleasure-ground within, for angels fit. 

And Him whose voice was heard among the trees. 

Walking in Eden in the cool of the day. 



A HYMN FOR FAMILY WORSHIP. 155 



XXXVIII. 



A HYMN FOR FAMILY WORSHIP. 

Saviour of them that trust in Thee, 
Once more, with suppHcating cries, 

We Hft the heart and bend the knee, 
And bid Devotion's incense rise. 

For mercies past we praise Thee, Lord — 
The frnits of Earth, the hopes of Heaven 

Thy helping arm — thy guiding word. 

And answered prayers, — and sins forgiven. 

Whene'er we tread on Danger's height. 
Or walk Temptation's slippery way. 

Be still, to steer our steps aright. 

Thy word our guide. Thine arm our stay. 



156 POEMS. 

Be ours Thy fear and favour still, 
United hearts — unchanging love ; 

No scheme that contradicts thy will. 
No wish that centres not above. 

And since we must be parted here. 
Support us when the hour shall come 

Wipe gently off the mourner's tear, — 
Rejoin us in our heavenly Home. 



POEMS. 157 



XXXIX. 



There is an ancient Man who dwells 

Without our parish bounds. 
Beyond the poplar avenue, 

Across two meadow-grounds : 
And whensoe'er our two small bells 

To church call merrily, 
Leaning upon our church-yard gate 

This old man ye may see. 

He is a man of many thoughts. 

That long have found their rest. 
Each in its proper dwelling-place 

Settled within his breast: 
A form erect, a stately brow, 

A set and measured mien — 
The satisfied unroving look 

Of one who much hath seen. 



158 POEMS. 

And oncCj when young in care of souls, 

I watched a sick man's bed, 
And willing half, and half-ashamed, 

Lingered, and nothing said ; 
That ancient man^ in accents mild, 

Removed my shame away — 
'' Listen !" he said ; " the Minister 

Prepares to kneel and pray." 

These lines of humble thankfulness 

Will never meet his eye ; 
Unknown that old man means to live 

And unremembered die. 
The forms of life have severed us — 

But when that life shall end. 
Fain would I hail that reverend man 

A Father and a Friend. 



POEMS. 159 



XL. 

*' Child, whither goest thou 

Over the snowy hill ? — 
The frost-air nips so keen 

That the very clouds are still : 
From the golden folding curtains 

The Sun hath not looked forth, 
And brown the snow-mist hangs 

Round the mountains to the North. 

'' Kind Stranger;, dost thou see 

Yonder church-tower rise. 
Thrusting its crown of pinnacles 

Into the looming skies ? — 
Thither go I : — keen the morning 

Bites, and deep the snow; 
But, in spite of them. 

Up the frosted hill I go." 



l60 POEMS. 

" Child, and what dost thou 

When thou shalt be there? — 
The chancel- door is shut — 

There is no bell for prayer; 
Yester morn and yester even 

Met we there and prayed; 
But now none is there 

Save the dead lowly laid. 

" Stranger, underneath that tower. 

On the western side, 
A happy, happy company 

In holy peace abide ; 
My father, and my mother. 

And my sisters four — 
Their beds are made in swelling turf, 

Fronting the western door." 

" Child, if thou speak to them 
They will not answer thee ; 

They are deep down in earth, — 
Thy face they cannot see. 



POEMS. 161 



Then wherefore art thou going 

Over the snowy hill ? — 
Why seek thy low-laid family 

Where they lie cold and still?" 

'' Stranger, when the summer heats 

Would dry their turfy bed. 
Duly from this loving hand 

With water it is fed; 
They must be cleared this morning 

From the thick-laid snow — 
So now along the frosted field. 

Stranger, let me go." 



l62 POEMS. 



XLI. 



THE EPITAPPI OF BIOiN. 



FROM MOSCHUS. 



Dolefully sound, ye groves and Dorian waters, 

Lament, ye rivers, our beloved Bion ; 

Mourn, all ye plants, and whisper low, ye forests ; 

Ye flowers, breathe sadly from your drooping petals ; 

Put on deep red, anemones and roses; 

Wail thine own letters, hyacinth, and ai ai 

Write double on thy leaves for our sweet poet. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Ye nightingales, in the thick leafage sobbing, 
Tell the Sicilian streams of Arethusa 
Bion is dead, the shepherd-boy, and with him 
Song too is dead, and all the Dorian music. 



THE EPITAPH OF BION. l6S 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Strymonian swans, sing sadly by your waters ; 
Warble a funeral elegy, in ditties 
Such as he sung, the rival of your voices. 
Tell the (Eagrian Nymphs, and tell the damsels 
That play in Thrace, Dead is the Dorian Orpheus. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Our friend shall pipe beside his flocks no longer. 
Nor sit and sing alone beneath the ilex; 
But tunes oblivious strains to sullen Pluto. 
Mute are the mountains, 9,nd the herd is straying 
And will not feed, but wanders sadly lowing. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Thine early death lamented great Apollo, 
Pan wept to miss thy singing, all the Naiads 
Wept in their woods, and turned to tears their fountains; 
Echo is weeping that she must be silent 
Thy lips no longer mocking. At thy parting 
Trees shed their fruit, and all the flowers were blighted ; 
Milk failed the flocks, and in our hives the honey 
Sunk mouldering in the wax; for no more sweetness 
Shall there be, now thy honey-song hath perished. 



164 



POEMS. 



Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Not so beside the sea-beach wailed the dolphin. 
Nor nightingale in shrubby rocks embowered. 
Nor on the long green hills the piping swallow ; 
Not so for his Alcyone wept Ceyx; 
Nor Cerylus along the dark-blue waters; 
Not so in Eastern dells the birds of Memnon 
Wailed, flying round his tomb, the son of Ac, 
As all lamented for the death of Bion. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Shepherd, with thee the Muses' gifts have perished- 
All beauty, and the joy of youthful lovers — 
Sadly the Loves around thy tomb are weeping: 
Cypris hath loved thee better than the memory 
Of the last kiss she prest on pale Adonis. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Thou tunefullest of streams, a second sorrow, 
A second sorrow, Meles, hath befallen ; 
Thy Homer died, sweet prophet of the Muses ; 
And then, they say, thy glorious son thou wailest 
Along thy shallows, and far into ocean 
Carriedst the sound of grief: and now another 



THE EPITAPH OF BION. l65 

Must thou lament, and dry away for anguish. 

Both were beloved by fountains : one was favoured 

Of HippocrenCj, and one of Arethusa; 

One sung the lay of Tyndarus' fair daughter. 

The son of Thetis, and the twin Atreidae; 

But ours no wars, nor tears — the god of shepherds 

And herdsmen sung he, as his flock he tended. 

And bound the syrinx, and milked the sweet-breathed 

heifers. 
And spake of Love, and w as dear to Aphrodita. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
All countries mourn for thee, all ancient cities : 
Not so mourned Ascra for her Shepherd-prophet ; 
Not so the castled Lesbos for Alcaeus ; 
Nor Ceos her old songster; not so Paros 
Archilochus desires; and leaving Sappho 
Thy legend sings the Avidowed Mitylene. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Alas ! when mallows perish in the gardens. 
The crisp-green parsley, and the hardy anise. 
They live again, and grow another summer ; 



l66 POEMS. 

But we^ the great and strong, the sons of wisdom, 
When first we die, unknown in earthy hollow 
Sleep a long boundless sleep, that hath no waking. 
Thou shalt be gathered to the dust in silence, 
But sorry songsters live and sing for ever: 
Well have the Muses ordered it, for better 
Sing sweet and die, than be like them immortal. 

Begin the grief, begin, Sicilian Muses. 
Poison hath touched thy mouth, a draught of poison ; 
How came it to thy lips and was not sweetened .'* 
What man so cruel that for thee could mingle. 
Or offering it escaped uncharmed thy singing,'* 

Begin the grief, begin Sicilian Muses. 
Who now shall sound thy reed, beloved poet.^ 
Who is so bold that to his lips will bear it ? 
To Pan I offer it ; but Pan refuses 
To wake its melody, lest he in playing 
Should miss thy skill, and be adjudged thy second. 



POEMS. 167 



XLII. 



I HAD the sweetest dream but yesternight 

About the lady of my love: 
I saw her sitting in a faint green light 

With twisted boughs above. 

Her russet hair flowed moistly down her neck 
Parting each tender blooming cheek ; 

And beautiful young roses seemed to deck 
Her bosom chaste and meek. 

Some deeply-working thought with strong control 
Cast down those eyes I longed to see; 

And I could tell that all her virgin soul 
Was faint for love of me. 



168 POEMS. 

No barrier thwarts the creatures of the mind 
I crept and sat me down by her; 

And put^ as I was wont, my arm behind 
Her neck, within her hair. 

I saw the sweetest gleam of heavenly light 
Look from her moist uplifted eyes; 

The deepest blush of unforewarned delight 
Up to her warm cheeks rise. 

But all in one sad moment utterly 

Gone was the charm that wrought for us : 

The vision faded from my sight, and I 
Awoke to tell it thus. 



POEMS. 169 



XLIII. 

THE MALVERN HILLS; 
March 12, 1835. 

Erewhile I saw ye faintly through far haze 
Spread many miles above the fields of sea: 
Now ye rise glorious^ and my steps are free 
To wander through your valleys' beaten ways. 
And climb above, threading the rocky maze ; 
And trace this stream, alive with shifting light. 
With whose successive eddies silver-bright 
Not without pleasant sound the moonbeam plays. 
My dear dear Bride — two days had made thee mine. 
Two days of waxing hope and waning fear, 
When under the night-planet's lavish shine 
We stood in joy, and blessed that rillet clear; 
Such joy unwarning comes and quickly parts. 
But lives deep-rooted in our ^ heart of hearts.' 

END OF VOLUME I. 
VOL. I. H 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



HENRY ALFORD, 

M 

VICAR OF WIMESWOULD, LEICESTERSHIRE, 
AND LATE FELLOW OF TRINITY COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE. 



IN TWO VOLUME.^. 



Munus ecce fictile 
Inimus intra regiam salutis; 

Attamen vel infimam 
Deo obsequelam praestitisse prodest. 

Quidquid illud accidet, 
Juvabit ore personasse Christum. 

PRUDENTU'S. 



VOLUME II. 

CONTAINING 

THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



CAMBRIDGE : 

PRINTED AT THE PITT PRESS, BY JOHN SMITH, 
PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY : 

FOR LONGMAN & CO., PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON; 
AND J. & J. J. DEIGHTON, CAMBRIDGE. 

M.DCCC.XXXV. 



Not war, nor hurrying troops from plain to plain, 
Nor deed of high resolve, nor stern command 
Sing I ; the brow that carries trace of pain 
Long and enough the sons of song have scanned : 
Nor lady's love in honeysuckle bower 
With helmet hanging by, in stolen ease : 
Poets enough I deemed of heavenly power 
Ere now had lavished upon themes like these. 
My harp and I have sought a holier meed : 
The fragments of God's image to restore, 
The earnest longings of the soul to feed. 
And balm into the Spirit's wounds to pour. 
One gentle voice hath bid our task God-speed : 
And now we search the world to hear of more. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



LESSON I. 



VOL. 



WHETHER IT BE LOVE, OR IT BE SCIENCE THAT WE HANDLE, 
'• OR WHATEVER ART PURSUE INTO ITS MORE SECRET PLACES 
" AND HIGHER FORMS, WE MUST CONFESS THAT WE SHALL 
" HAVE FOUND AT LENGTH SOMETHING (AND THAT WHEREON 
" ALL DOTH DEPEND) WHICH NEITHER IS. NOR BELONGS TO 
" OURSELVES." 



LESSON THE FIRST. 



The Spring is coming round — ^the buds have burst. 

And on the coppice path, and in the bower 

The leaping spray of sunlight leaf-inwrought 

Sports to the gentle bidding of the breeze : 

And far away into the inner grove 

Bright green the mosses cluster on the stems, 

Till where the thickest arbour doth embower 

Sweet solitary flowers of meekest eye 

That dwell for ever with the silent dews. 

Sweet partner of my hopes, who through the young 
And sunny years of life, hast been to me 
An opening bud most delicately nursed, 
Methinks this day hath risen upon us two 

A 2 



4 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

As on the joyous earth, and teemmg wood — 
To summon into life the folded flowers. 
And bid our plant of love spring boldly up. 
Fearing no check from frost or blighting dew. 

No one is present with us ; none is here 
But thou and I ; so I may tell my thoughts 
Now thou hast picked thy apron full of flowers, 
For I have much to tell. 

Along the East 
The clear pale light of the morn is brooding still 
And down our favourite path, on either side, 
The little leaves are glittering in the sun ; 
So we will talk away the morning tide 
Under the soft bright April. Let us sit 
Together on that slope, where cluster thick 
The full-blown primroses, and playfully 
The tender-drooping wood-anemones 
Toss to the breeze in turn their silver bells. 

'Tis long since we were free to while away 
So many hours in converse: and I feel 



LESSON I. 

Strange yearnings to pour out my inner soul. 
To open forth unto thee all the stores 
Whereby my spirit hath been furnished 
For the great war with evil. 

Few have lived 
As we have lived, unsevered; our young life 
Was but a summer's frolic: we have been 
Like two babes passing hand in hand along 
A sunny bank on flowers. The busy world 
Goes on around us, and its multitudes 
Pass by me, and I look them in the face. 
But cannot read such meaning, as I read 
In this of thine ; — and thou too dost but move 
Among them for a season, but returnest 
With a light step and smiles, to our old seats^ 
Our quiet walks, our solitary bower. 
Some we love well; the early presences 
That were first round us, and the silvery tones 
Of those most far away, and dreamy voices 
That sounded all about us at the dawn 
Of our young life — these, as the world of things 
Sets in upon our being like a tide, 



6 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Keep with us, and are ever uppermost. 

And some there are, tall, beautiful, and wise. 

Whose step is heavenward, and whose souls have past 

Out from the nether darkness, and been born 

Into a new and glorious universe. 

Who speak of things to come ; — but there is that 

In thy soft eye and long-accustomed voice 

Would win me from them all. 

For since our birth 
Our thoughts have grown together in one mould: — 
All through the seasons of our infancy 
The same hills rose about us — the same trees. 
Now bare, now sprinkled with the tender leaf. 
Now thick with full dark foliage — the same church. 
Our own dear village church, has seen us pray. 
In the same seat, with hands clasped side by side, — 
And we have sung together; and have walked 
Full of one thought, along the homeward lane ; 
And so were we built upwards for the trial 
That on my walls hath fallen unsparingly. 
Shattering their frail foundations ; and which thou 
Hast yet to look for, — but hast found the help 
Which then I knew not — rest thee firmly there! 



LESSON I. 

When first I issued forth into the world, 
Oh I remember well — that very morn 
When we rose long before the accustomed hour 
By the faint taper-light; — and by that gate 
We just now swung behind us carelessly, 
I gave thee the last kiss : — I travelled on. 
Giving my mind up to the world without. 
Which poured in strange ideas of strange things. 
New towns, new churches, new inhabitants :— 
And ever and anon some happy child 
Beneath a rose-trailed porch played as I past : 
And then the thought of thee swept through my soul. 
And made the hot drops stand in either eye. 
And so I travelled — till between two hills. 
Two turf-enamelled mounds of brightest green. 
Stretched the blue limit of the distant sea. 
Unknown to me before : — then with strange joy. 
Forgetting all, I gazed upon that sea. 
Till I could see the white waves leaping up. 
And all my heart leapt with them : — so I past 
Southward — and neared that wilderness of waves. 
And stopt upon its brink ; and when the even 
Spread out upon the sky unusual clouds. 



8 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

I sat me down upon a wooded clifF 

Watching the earth's last daylight fade away. 

Till that the dim wave far beneath my feet 

Did make low moanings to the infant moon. 

And the lights twinkled out along the shore ; — 

Then I looked upwards — and I saw the stars, 

Sirius, Orion, and the Northern wain. 

And the seven Sisters, and the beacon-flame 

Of bright Arcturus — every one the same 

As when I shewed them thee. — '''But yesternight, 

I said, " she gazed with me upon those stars ; — 

Why did we not agree to look on them 

Both at one moment every starlight night. 

And think that the same star beheld us both .J^" 

But I shall weary thee — that very night. 
As I past shore wards under the dark hills, 
I made a vow that I would live on love. 
Even the love of thee; — this all my faith. 
My only creed, my only refuge this. 
So day past after day : and every one 
Gave me a fainter image of thy face. 
Till thou wert vanished quite: nor could I then. 



LESSON I. 

No not with painful strain of memory, 

Bring back one glimpse of thy lost countenance. 

Then I would sit and try to hear thy voice, — 

And catch and lose its tones successively; 

Till that too left me; till the very words 

Which thou hadst written had no trace of thee,- — 

JBut it was pain to see them. So my soul 

Self-bound and self-tormented, lingered on, 

Evermore vainly striving after love, 

Which evermore fled from her — till at last 

She ceased to strive, and sunk, a lifeless lump. 

No sense, no vigour, dead to all around. 

But most to thee — meanwhile the golden hours 

Of life flowed on apace — but weary seemed 

The universe of toil — weary the day — 

I had no joy but sleep, rare visitant 

Of my lone couch. 

What times of purest joy 
Were then my brief returns — what greetings then. 
What wanderings had we on our native slopes; 
What pleasant mockings of the tearful past. — 

A5 



10 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

And I remember well, one summer's night, 

A clear soft silver moonlight, thou and I 

Sat a full hour together silently. 

Looking abroad into the pure pale heaven. — 

Perchance thou hast forgotten : but my arm 

Was on thy shoulder, and thy clustering locks 

Hung lightly on my hand, and thy dear eye 

Glistered beside my forehead: — and at length 

Thou saidst, " 'Tis time we went to rest ;" and then 

We rose and parted for the night: no words 

But those were spoken, and we never since 

Have told each other of that moment. Oft 

Has it come o'er me, — and I oft have thought 

Of sharing it with thee : but my resolve 

Has been spread over with a thousand things 

Of various import — till this April morn — 

And we have shared it now. 

But soon again 
I left my home ; — there was no beauty now 
Of lands new seen — but the same dreary road 
Which bore me from thee first — I had no joy 
In looking on the ocean — and full sad. 



J.ESSON 1. 11 

With inward frettings and unrest, I reached 
That steep-built village on the Southern shore. 

Sometimes I wandered down the wooded dells 
That sloped into the sea; — and sat me down 
On piles of rocks, in a most private place, 
Not without melody of ancient stream 
Down-dripping from steep sides of brightest moss. 
And tumbling onwards through the dark ravine ; 
While the lithe branches of the wizard elm 
Dangled athwart the deep blue crystalline. — 
Often the memory comes o'er me now 
Like life upon a long entranced corpse ; — 
I knew not then aught of that inner soul 
That giveth life to Beauty — knew not then 
How moments -of most painful vacancy 
In Beauty's presence, print their footmarks deep 
On the soul's pathways, and how glory and light 
Shine from them at a distance ; — how we gather 
Our treasures in the shade, and know them not 
Till they steal lustre from the living sun. 
Flattering the new-born vision of our souls 
With richest stores of unprovided joy. 



12 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Sometimes I sat and strove to gather hope 
Out of the blank cold future: but the years 
Of onward life grew darker as I looked; — 
I saw sad shapes mustered along the path 
Beckoning with silent finger : and young hopes 
That bloomed most delicately^ stretched clay-cold 
And ghastly pale upon the earth : and then 
Hot tears burst from me: and my sinful soul 
Wept herself dry in utter solitude. 

Tears may not wash away the spirit's stain : 
The soul that sitteth down in dreariness 
Telling her sorrow to herself alone 
Is not the purest; for the very sting 
Of the heart's bitterness hath power to spread 
Most pestilent corruption; and its wound 
Festereth within untended. Sin is a fire 
Self-hated, self-tormenting; a wild pest 
Of rabid flame, that roareth to be quenched. 
And may not but in blood. Sin will have blood 
And if it find it not^, will wrench abroad 
The very heart that holds it, and will dip 
Its hissing fangs deep in the purple stream. 



LESSON I. 13 

Tainting the very issues of all life 

With foul black drops of death; and not so quenched 

Feed on the young supplies of vital joy. 

Scorching the inner fountains of the soul. 

But, like the sunrise on the dark wild sea. 
There rose upon my spirit a great light: — 
I was like one fast fettered in a cave 
Before whose dull and night-accustomed eyes 
Some naphtha-fire up-flaring from behind 
Marshalls strange shadows on the rifted vault;* 
Till there came by one of mild countenance 
And beautiful apparel, at whose touch 
My chains fell round me, and I followed on 
Up rugged steeps into the outer day : 
But so sight-blasting was that lurid night. 
That the clear light was all too pure for me. 
The gentle moon too beautiful : but soon 
I shall look forth undazzled ; and ere long 
With purified and unbeclouded sight 
Gaze the broad sunshine in his place on high. 

* Plato Repub. Book vii. §. 1. 



14 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

— ' She hath loved much, and therefore is forgiven :' 
Then Love is first; and in the sleep of sin 
Come sudden startings of brief consciousness, 
And breaks in the dull slumber, as from sounds 
Of sweetest music, that give instant joy. 
But mix the after-dreams with strange regret. 
As one who wandering in the summer night 
Is ware of sudden light, and looking up 
Betwixt Orion and the Pleiades 
Sees pass along a trail of white star-fire 
That fades upon the night and leaves no trace; 
One moment he rejoices, but the next 
His soul is sad, because he is alone: — 

Or (for we love to chase similitude 
Into its close recesses, when we speak 
Of things but shadowed forth and half-defined) 
Like one w^ho hath seen play across his path 
A glimmer of faint lightning, — and stands still 
Breathlessly waiting, till the deep long moan 
Of far-off thunder from a low-hung cloud 
Hath died into the air: then sets he forth 
By slopes of bright green larch, and hedgerows sweet 



LESSON I. 15 

With thickest roses, to the cottaged knoll 
Where gleams against the blackness pinnacled 
From out its elms his light tall village tower. 

What can be purer than a soul forgiven ? 
He who hath never fallen, may err perchance 
In the admission of a vague desire : 
But when the spirit hath come out from thrall 
Into the upper air of Liberty, 
She hath no backward longings, but looks on 
Up the steep pathways of unfolding light. 
Knowest thou not that it is sweetest far 
After the languid pulse and sunken eye 
To go abroad beneath the sunny heaven. 
Freely to breathe, and feel through all the frame 
The indifferenqe of justly-balanced health ? 

It may be that all evil teems with good; — 
It may be that the sorrows of this state 
Are but the birth-pangs of a glorious life, — 
And all the hindrances of mortal flesh 
A grosser matter that shall polish off. 
Brightening the silver which it erst obscured. 



l6 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

But stay we here — for we may search no more : 
The heart is deeper than the power of words : 
And language many- voiced doth not suffice 
For all the combinations of pure thought ; — 
Even in the reasonings of the over-wise 
Speech hath a limit which she may not pass; 
Then how much rather, when we talk of Love. 

I have been somewhat cruel to thy flowers; 
For I have cheated them of a few days 
Of modest pride — they might have lived perchance 
Hung round our shady arbour, duly fed 
From the evening water-pot; — or for quaint shew 
Stuck deftly among leaves that knew them not, 
Puzzled the after-thoughts of passers-by. 
Their bloom is shed; but I have fetched for thee 
Flowers blooming in the inner grove of thought, 
Sweet nurslings of a never-fading spring ; 
The sunshine trophies of a victory 
Fought for in frosts and darkness, and achieved 
Only by light from heaven to see my foes. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



LESSON II. 



•' AND IN THE TEMPLE-SERVICE OF OUR SOULS, IT DOES NOT 
" BECOME US, BECAUSE WE HAVE SOMETIMES SEEN THE CLOUD 
" FILL THE HOUSE OF THE LORD, AND ALL OUR MINISTERING 
" HAS BEEN LOST IN THE GLORY, NOT TO TAKE OUR DAILY 
" BLESSEDNESS OUT OF HIS MILD AND USUAL PRESENCE, OR 
" TO THINK THAT WE MAY PRESCRIBE TO HIM HIS OCCASIONS 
" OF BRIGHTER MANIFESTATION." 



LESSON THE SECOND. 



My sweet companion, who hast ever been 

Beside me in all toils, refreshing oft 

My weary spirit with low whisperings 

Of hope that spoke not falsely ; in whose sight 

My young life floweth pleasantly along; 

Sit thou beside me once again, and take 

Thy magic pencils— they will serve thee well 

To help thy patience : for my heart is full. 

And I perchance may wander way wardly ; — 

Besides, this bank is known to us of old — 

For yonder is the ivy-girded trunk. 

Bright mouldering timber clothed with darkest green 

And yonder those two ashes on the steep 

And grassy slope, — and underneath the moor 

Stretches its pastured level far away. 



20 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

To the grey mountains and the Severn sea: 

And from that very brake, the nightingale 

In the sweet silence of the summer eve 

Poured forth a wavy stream of melody. 

Signal to one who waited with thick breath 

And throbbing bosom, all afraid to speak 

One low-breathed word — that evening thou wert mine. 

Sit thou beside me — we will talk no more 
Of dim and cloudy childhood, ere the spring 
Burst on us, when with searchings wearisome 
We sought some center for our errant hopes; 
But underneath this sky of clearest June 
We will discourse, as we are wont, o+" things 
Most gentle, of most gentle causes sprung, 
That make no wave upon the stream of Life, 
That are not written in the Memory's book. 
That come not with observance; but from which 
As from a myriad stones, costly though small. 
Is built the mansion of the blessed soul. 

Look out upon the earth, or meditate 
Upon the varying glories of the sky ; 



LESSON II. 21 

As we have looked on them from windy hills, 

Or from the moonlight window ; fullest joy 

Flows on thy heart, and silent thankfulness 

Drowns all thy struggling thoughts; doth not this bliss 

Wax ever deeper with the years of life? 

And when past pleasures come upon the soul 

Like long forgotten landscapes of our youth, 

Are not these spots clad with peculiar light. 

The brightest blossoms in the Paradise 

Of recollections of a soul forgiven ? tij 

There is no joy that is not built on peace; 

Peace is our birthright, and our legacy 

Signed with a hand that never promised false. 

And we have fed on peace; and the green earth. 

With all that therein is, — the mighty sea. 

The breath of the spring winds, and all the host 

Of clustered stars, give fittest nourishment 

To the peace-loving soul. 

' Not as the world 
Giveth, give I to you ;' for what have souls 
Whose vision labours with the film of sin. 
Who struggle in the twilight of eclipse. 



22 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

To do with beauty and the joy of thought? 

Our very joys have been redeemed with blood; 

Our very liberty is bought anew : 

The unforgiven pleasures of the world 

Are but a dance in chains ; freedom of thought 

Owes fealty to sin; and Fancy's self, 

That airiest and most unfettered thing, 

Is but the prisoned maniac's dream of bliss. 

Oft have I listened to a voice that spake 
Of cold and dull realities of life. 
Deem we not thus of life : for we may fetch 
Light from a hidden glory, which shall clothe 
The meanest thing that is with hues of heaven. 
If thence we draw not glory, all our light 
Is but a taper in a chambered cave. 
That giveth presence to new gulphs of dark. 
Our light should be the broad and open day; 
And as we love its shining, we shall look 
Still on the bright and daylight face of things. 

Is it for nothing that the mighty sun 
Rises each morning from the Eastern plain 



LESSON II. 23 

Over the meadows fresh with hoary dew? 

Is it for nothing that the shadowy trees 

On yonder hill-top, in the summer night 

Stand darkly out before the golden moon? 

Is it for nothing that the autumn boughs 

Hang thick with mellow fruit, what time the swain 

Presses the luscious juice, and joyful shouts 

Rise in the purple twilight, gladdening him 

Who laboured late, and homeward wends his way 

Over the ridgy grounds, and through the mead. 

Where the mist broods along the fringed stream ? 

Far in the Western sea dim islands float. 

And lines of mountain coast receive the sun 

As he sinks downward to his resting-place. 

Ministered to by bright and crimson clouds — 

Is it for nothing that some artist hand 

Hath wrought together things so beautiful? 

Noon follows morn, the quiet breezeless noon : 

And pleasant even, season of sweet sounds 

And peaceful sights — and then the wondrous bird 

That warbles like an angel, full of love. 

From copse and hedgerow side pouring abroad 

Her tide of song into the listening night. 



24 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Beautiful is the last gleam of the sun 

Slanted through twining branches : beautiful 

The birth of the faint stars — first clear and pale 

The steady-lustred Hesper^, like a gem 

On the flushed bosom of the West ; and then 

Some princely fountain of unborrowed light, 

Arcturus, or the Dogstar, or the seven 

That circle without setting round the pole. 

Is it for nothing, at the midnight hour. 

That solemn silence sways the hemisphere. 

And ye must listen long before ye hear 

The cry of beasts, or fall of distant stream. 

Or breeze among the tree-tops — while the stars 

Like guardian spirits watch the slumbering earth ? 

Can human energies be scattered all 
In a long life — a slumber deep and chill 
Settle upon the soul — a palsy bind 
The spiritual limbs — and all the strings 
Of that sweet instrument, the mind of man. 
Remain untuned, untouched ? — What if in dreams 
The struggling fancy from her prison break 
And wander undirected, gathering up 



LESSON II. 25 

Unnatural combinations of strange things, 
Of sights, it may be, beautiful and wild, — 
Long gleaming reaches of some slow-paced stream. 
And boats of gold and pearl, with coral masts, 
Floating unguided in a faint green light 
Of twisted boughs, and heavy-plumaged birds 
Of many colours, roosting all the night 
On rambling branches of a giant wood — 
And what if voices in the middle night 
Full on thine ear in chimy murmurs rush, 
That warble of deep skies and silver sheen, — 
And bright eyes twinkle, far away but clear. 
Receding as they twinkle, and with charm 
Unknown the ravished spirit drawing on — 
These are not wholesome nurture for the soul. 
Nor sounds and sights like these the daily bread 
It asks from heaven : — these are the errant paths 
Of those great flaming brushes in the sky, 
Now dangerously near the maddening fire. 
Now chill and darkling in the gulfs of space, 
Unlike the steady moderated course 
Of habitable worlds. 

VOL. II. B 



26 



THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



There lie around 
Th}' daily walk great store of beauteous things, 
Each in its separate place most fair, and all 
Of many parts disposed most skilfully, 
Making in combination wonderful 
An individual of a higher kind ; 
And that again in order ranging well 
With its own fellows, till thou rise at length 
Up to the majesty of this grand world ; — 
Hard task and seldom reached by mortal souls. 
For frequent intermission, and neglect 
Of close communion with the humblest things ; 
But in rare moments, whether Memory 
Hold compact with Invention, or the door 
Of Heaven hath been a little pushed aside, 
Methinks I can remember, after hours 
Of unpremeditated thought in woods 
On Western steeps, that hung a pervious screen 
Before blue mountains and the distant sea, 
A sense of a clear brightness in my soul, 
A dayspring of mild radiance, like the light 
First-born of the great Fiat, that ministered 
Unto the earth before the sun was made. 



LESSON II. 27 

Evening and morning — those two ancient names 
So linked with childish wonder, when with arm 
Fast wound about the neck of one we loved, 
Oft questioning, we heard Creation's tale — 
Evening and morning ever brought to me 
Strange joy; the birth and funeral of light, 
Whether in clear unclouded majesty 
The large Sun poured his effluence abroad. 
Or the grey clouds rolled silently along. 
Dropping their doubtful tokens as they passed; 
Whether above the hills intensely glowed 
Bright lines of parting glory in the West, 
Or from the veil of faintly-reddened mist 
The darkness slow descended on the earth ; 
The passing to a state of things all new — 
New fears and new enjoyments — this was all 
Food for my seeking spirit: I would stand 
Upon the jutting hills that overlook 
Our level moor, and watch the daylight fade 
Along the prospect: now behind the leaves 
The golden twinkles of the westering sun 
Deepened to richest crimson: now from out 
The solemn beech-grove, through the natural aisles 

B 2 



28 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Of pillared trunks, the glory in the West 
Shewed like the brightly burning Shechinah 
Seen in old times above the Mercy-seat 
Between the folded wings of Cherubim ; — 
I loved to wander with the Evening star 
Heading my way, till from the palest speck 
Of virgin silver, evermore lit up 
With radiance as by spirits ministered. 
She seemed a living pool of golden light: — 
I loved to leai'n the strange array of shapes 
That pass along the circle of the year ; — 
Some, for the love of ancient lore, I kept ; 
And they would call into my fancy's eye 
Chaldaean beacons, over the drear sand 
Seen faintly from thick-towered Babylon 
Against the sunset — shepherds in the field 
Watching their flocks by night — or shapes of men 
And high-necked camels, passing leisurely 
Along the starred horizon, where the spice 
Swims in the air, in Araby the Blest; — 
And some, as Fancy led, I figured forth, 
Misliking their old names — one circlet bright 
Gladdens me often, near the Northern Wain, 



! LESSON II. '2g 

Which, with a childish playfulness of choice 
That hath not past away, I loved to call 
The crown of glory, by the righteous Judge 
Against the day of His appearing, laid 
In store for him who fought the fight of faith. 

I ever loved the Ocean, as 't had been 
My childhood's playfellow. In sooth it was; 
For I had built me forts upon its sands, 
And launched my little navies in the creeks. 
Careless of certain loss; so it would play 
Even as it listed with them, I were pleased. 
I loved to follow with the backward tide 
Over rough rocks and quaintly delving pools, 
Till that the land-cliffs lessened, and I trod 
With cautious step on slippery crags and moist, 
With sea- weed clothed, like the green hair of Nymphs, 
The Nereids' votive hair, that on the rocks 
They hang when storms are past, to the kind Power 
That saved their sparry grottoes. 

And at night 
I wandered often, when the winds were up, 



30 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Over the pathless hills, till I could hear. 

Borne fitfully upon the hurrying blast. 

The curfew bell with lingering strokes and deep 

From underlying town; — then all was still 

But the low murmuring of the distant sea; 

And then again the new-awakened wind 

Howled in the dells^ and through the bended heath 

Swept whistling by my firmly planted feet. ^ 

Eternal rocks — that lift your heads on high 
Grey with the tracks of ages that have past 
Over your serried brows, with many a scar 
Of thunderstroke deep-riven — from out whose clefts 
The gnarled oak, and yew, and tender ash. 
Poured forth like waters, trail adown the steep — 
Ye stand to figure to our human view 
The calm and never-altering character 
Of great Eternity — like some vast pier 
Fixed, while the fleeting tide of mortal things 
Flows onward from its sight. The mighty men 
Of ages gone have past beneath your crest 
And cast an upward look, and ye have grown 
Into their being, and been created part 



LESSON ir. 3i 

Of the great Mind, and of your influence some 

Hath past into the thoughts that live and burn 

Through all the ages of the peopled world. 

Your presence hath been fruitful to my soul 

Of mighty lessons ; whether inland far 

Ye lift your jutting brows from grassy hills. 

Or on the but of some great promontory 

Keep guard against the sleepless siege of waves. 

Once I remember when most visible light 

Shone from you on my spirit — 'twas an eve 

In fall of summer, when the weaker births 

Of ths great forest change their robes of green ; — 

On such an eve, I climbed into a nook 

Bowered with leaves and canopied with crags 

On the loved border of the Western shore. 

Over the topmost cliff the horned moon 

Not eight days" old, shone mildly ; under foot 

The mighty ocean rolled its multitude 

Of onward-crowding ridges, that with crash 

Of thunder broke upon the jutting rocks ; 

And in the Northern sky, where not an hour 

The day had sunk, a pomp of tempest-clouds 

Passed wildly onward over the calm lines 



.12 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Of the hue of faded sunset. Wearily 

Sighed the thick oaks upon the sea-ward steep. 

And the melancholy sea-bird wailed aloft, 

Now poised in the mid-air, now with swift sweep 

Descending, and again on balanced wings 

Hovering, or wheeling dismally about 

With short importunate cry. 

But ye the chief, 
Trees, that along our pleasant native slope 
Pendant with clustering foliage, in the light 
Of parting evening sleep most peacefully. 
Gathering to the eye your separate heads 
Into a dark and misty mass of green — 
Ye can bear witness how with constant care 
I mourned your tribute to the Autumn winds. 
And hailed with you the sweet return of spring. 
And watched with fondest care the tender green ;- 
Ye sleep the winter through — and burst abroad 
In the morning of the year — and sweetest songs 
Sound through your arbours all the happy May, 
Till callow broods take wing, and Summer's sun 
Darkens the tender green upon the leaf; 



LESSON n. SS 

And then ye stand majestic, glorying 

In strength of knotted trunk and branches vast. 

Daring the noonday heat, that withers up 

The orchis-flower and foxglove at your feet, 

Save where your mighty shadows gloomily 

Recline upon the underlying sward. 

I looked upon you when the April moon 

Sprinkled your forms with light, and the dewball lay 

All night upon the branch — listening each year 

When the first breeze might stir your boughs new-clothed. 

Or when the rain all through the summer day 

Fell steadily upon the leaves, mine ear 

Soothing with the faint music's even chime. 

These, and a thousand things that men pass by. 
Served for my spiritual nourishment: 
Nor wanted high example, to my heart 
Laid often, and in secret cherished up 
With oft recurring sweet encouragement; 
Nor words of import deep, that fall on us 
In solemn places, when we note them not; 
But most one sacred thought, linked in my breast 
To a thousand memories that can never die — 



34) THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Sounding upon me in the hallowed hour 

Of Sabbath-service from the wondrous book ; — 

It was that He^, the only Son of Heaven 

That took his joys and woes from things below. 

When he would pour his holy soul in prayer 

Went forth beneath the moonlight — through the lines 

Of trembling olive-leaves, to where the path 

Came sudden out upon the open hill; — 

There he stood waiting till the flame from heaven 

Lighted upon the inward sacrifice 

Of thoughts most pure — and then the holy words 

Came musically forth upon the night. 

More sweet than tinkling Kedron, or the pipe 

Of distant nightingale : — or on the cliff 

Above the tossing lake he prayed and stood. 

And through the flight of jarring elements 

Came unimpeded swiftly gliding down 

From the Father's hand a healing drop of peace 

Upon his wounded soul. On mountain heights 

All the mid-hours of night, with serried crags 

Towering in the moonlight overhead. 

And through a channelled dell stretching away 

The plains of Galilee seen from afar. 



Lesson n. 35 

Till morn alone he prayed — whether the cup 

Of self-determined suffering passed athwart 

His forward vision^ and the Father's wrath 

Upon his human soul pressed heavily, 

Or for the welfare of his chosen flock 

He wrestled in an agony of prayer 

That their faith fail not. Even the Love of Him 

Now mingled in my bosom with all sounds 

And sights that I rejoiced in — and in hours 

Of self-arraigning thought, when the dull world 

With all its saws of heartlessness and pride 

Came close upon me, I approved my jpys 

And simple fondnesses, on trust that He 

Who taught the lesson of unwavering faith 

From the meek lilies of green Palestine, 

Would fit the "earthly things that most I loved 

To the high teaching of my patient soul. 

And the sweet hope that sprung within me now 

Seemed all-capacious, and from every source 

Apt to draw comfort; I perceived within 

A fresh and holy light rise mildly up: 

Not morning, nor the planet beautiful 

That heads the bright procession, when the Sun 



36 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Hath sunk into the West, is half so fair : — 

This was that Light which hghteth every man 

That comes into the world ; from the first gleam 

Of momentary joy, that twinkles forth 

Brightly and often from the infant's eye. 

To that which seldom comes on common days, — 

The steady overflow of calm delight 

In the well-ripened soul; all thoughts which spring 

From daily sights and sounds, all active hopes 

Brought from the workings of the outer world 

Upon the life within, here have their fixed 

And proper dwelling-place. 

As on the front 
Of some cathedral pile, ranged orderly. 
Rich tabernacles throng of sainted men. 
Each in his highday robes magnificent. 
Some topped with crowns, the church's nursing sires. 
And some, the hallowed temple's serving-men. 
With crosiers deep-embossed, and comely staves 
Resting aslant upon their reverend form, 
Guarding the entrance well; while round the walls. 
And in the corbels of the massy nave. 



LESSON II. 37 

All circumstance of living child and man 

And heavenly influence, in parables 

Of daily passing forms is pictured forth: 

So all the beautiful and seemly things 

That crowd the earth, within the humble soul 

Have place and order due; because there dwells 

In the inner temple of the holy heart 

The presence of the Spirit from above : 

There are his tabernacles; there his rites 

Want not their due performance, nor sweet strains 

Of heavenly music, nor a daily throng 

Of worshippers, both those who minister 

In service fixed — the mighty principles 

And leading governors of thought; and those 

Who come and go, the troop of fleeting joys — 

All hopes, all -sorrows, all that enter in 

Through every broad receptacle of sense. 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



LESSON III. 



' THE DEUYLL THEY SAY IS DEAD! 

THE DEUILL IS DEAD! 

IT MAY WEL SO BE; 

OR ELS THEY WOLD SEE 

OTHERWISE, AND FLEE 

FROM WORLDLY VANITIE, 

AND FOULE COVETOUSNES 

AND OTHER WRETCHEDNES, 

FICKELL FALSENESSE, 

VARYABLENESSE 

WITH VNSTABLENESSE. 

« » * 

FARWEL BENIGNITY! 

FARWELL SIMPLICITYE! 
FARWELL HUMILITYE! 
FARWEL GOOD CHARITY!" 

Skelto 



LESSON THE THIRD. 



The dews descend — the soft and gentle dews; 

Over the homeward meadows, stretching forth 

Far into the grey mist, the cattle lie 

Most tranquilly; the river's silver swathes 

Move not, or slumber silently along; 

The cups of the water-lilies are not stirred 

By passing eddies, but with countenance 

Turned up to Heaven, they lie and let the dark 

Come down on them, and then they pass beneath 

Into their wat'ry bed, till the young morn 

Looks slant upon the surface of the stream. 

And there among the golden company 

Floats like a queen that grand and ancient flower. 

With name that passing from the charmed tongue 



42 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Reminds us of low melodies in sleep. 

So honey-sweet, so musically soft — 

Like Artemis on Erymanthus' ridge 

Taking her pleasure in the mountain chase. 

With the field-nymphs around her playing blithe. 

Her beautiful brow she lifts among them all. 

And easy to be known, though all are fair : — 

That flower of many honours, dwelt upon 

By old prophetic light, in time of yore 

A mighty parable of mystic things. 

All sacred, leaf and bud and banded stalk. 

And root that struck into the bed of Nile, 

Or by the lake Maeotis — or perchance 

Under the bank of Jordan fringed with palms: — 

Fit and accepted emblem of that first 

Great resurrection of the chosen few. 

When from the waters blank and desolate 

They rose like thee; and token not unknown 

Of other and of deeper tendencies 

Of all things on this earth — how in the track 

And visible procession of events 

One tale is told, one moral figured forth, — 

Birth, death, and resurrection — birth and death 



LESSON 111. 43 

And resurrection, ever and anon 

Held up in clearest light to human thought. 

The milky tender seed is fashioned first 

From the flower that dies in birth ; through cruel blights 

And under adverse skies, with pain and toil 

If not self-known, yet rendered evident 

By the careful nurture that it looketh for, 

It ripens into age ; and then it dies 

In the brown ground, and chilly nights and snows 

Pass over it — at last the kindly Sun 

Bursts out upon it, and it breaks its grave. 

And issues forth, a beautiful green thing, 

A fresh and lively scion. And in things 

That look less like our own humanity. 

If we would search, the same great parable 

Is ever taken up and told abroad. 

And will be till the end. Beauty and Truth 

Go hand in hand — and 'tis the providence 

Of the great Teacher, that doth clearest shew 

The gentler and more lovely to our sight. 

Training our souls by frequent communings 

With her who meets us in our daily path 

With greetings and sweet talk, to pass at length 



44 THE SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

Into the presence, by unmarked degrees. 

Of that her sterner sister ; best achieved 

When from a thousand common sights and sounds 

The power of Beauty passes sensibly 

Into the soul, clenching the golden links 

That bind the memories of brightest things. 

So to that queenly virgin on the shore 

Of old Phaeacia, neither mortal man 

Nor woman might be likened, but one branch 

Of budding palm, in Delos that upsprung 

Fast by Apollo's altar from the ground. 

Thus, irrespective of all names of kind 

Is heavenly Beauty — spread along the earth. 

In all created things, always the same. 

Many have held that pure and holy truth 
Dwells only in the solitary soul ; 
That man with man conversing may not share 
Aught of the spiritual inward life ; 
That soul approaching within reach of soul 
Fosters a longing after things cast off 
With the first slough of Nature: — some have said 
That the green earth, with all her leafy paths 



LESSON III. 45 

Aiul her blue hills, hath nothing of delight 
Fitted for holy men ; — yet they have loved 
To wander in the twilight — to recline 
In the cool shade of a fresh-bursting tree — 
To look into the nighty when from the sky 
The moonlight broods upon the charmed earth; 
Yea, they have loved to take their playfellows 
From simple children, and to loose awhile 
The rigid bands of hardship self-imposed : 
And then they tell of youth, and innocence. 
And for a little moment sunshine burst's 
Upon their souls — a transitory gleam. 
For soon the clouds roll onward thick and fast. 
Darkening the light within, till a deep night 
Sets in, a damp and freezing night, wherein 
Prowl evil beasts, and most unbridled crime 
Walks unreproved. 

As one in summer tide 
Pacing a weary road in evening light 
After the Sun hath set, with the young Moon 
Looking upon him from the purple mist 
That floats above the West, saddens to think 



46 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

That each step bears him further from his love ; 

So in the interchange of daily words 

With proud and heartless men, comes weariness 

Upon my spirit, and my thoughts look back 

To solitude, or sweet society 

Of chosen souls, when two or three in peace 

Gathered together, for a little hour 

We held discourse in all humility 

Of common dangers and of common hopes; 

Till there came One among us who declared 

Why all these things were so; till our hearts burned 

Within us at the thoughts that flowed abroad 

From one into the other; till we looked 

And saw Him in the midst, as he had said. 

Known in the feeding of our spirits : known 

For that he blessed and brake as he was wont; 

Known to be present in his messengers. 

The daily calls and offices of life. 

Which, like their Master, to the human kind 

Go about doing good. 

Despise not thou 
The yearnings of a spirit ill at ease 



LESSON III. 47 

To dwell with men that have no love for God — 

Men of devices new and manifold — 

Men who would disenshrine the heavenly crown 

From the bright pole, and seek their best reward 

In being catalogued with printed names, 

And blazoning records of schismatic strife 

In the far quarters of the world. O Love ! 

O Charity, that erst ascendant crowned 

Our land with calm light like the star of eve ! 

Fast o'er the ocean fares the gathered gold. 

Gathered from Britain's heart, while in her arms 

Her famished myriads curse each coming morn; 

And they who feed their thousands far away 

By cold machinery that asks no toil. 

Grudge the poor pittance of a labouring hour 

To the home duties of unwitnest love. 

Methinks I could have borne to live ray days 
When by the pathway side, and in the dells. 
By shady resting-place, or hollow bank 
Where curved the streamlet, or on peeping rock. 
Rose sweetly to the travellers humble eye 
The Cross in every corner of our land; 



48 THE SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

When from the wooded valleys morn and eve 
Past the low murmur of the angel-bell ; 
Methinks I could have led a peaceful life 
Daily beneath the triple-vaulted roof 
Chanting glad matins, and amidst the glow 
Of mellow evening towards the village tower 
Pacing my humble way ; — most like to that 
He in the spirit from the lonely isle 
Saw, the beloved Apostle, round the throne 
And Him that sat thereon, glad companies 
Resting not day nor night their song of praise. 

Go ye about and search — set up a place 
And fetch a compass — in the brightest fields. 
And by the dwelling of the mighty sea. 
The everlasting witness; go and seek 
The sweetest flower that ever bloomed on earth ; 
See ye search well, for this our land hath borne 
Full many a fragrant cluster — there hath come 
From other times its sweet remembrance down;— 
'Tis low, but ye may scent it from afar. 
And ye may know its presence where it blooms, 
Even in the faces of the men ye meet. 



LESSON III. 49 

And in the little children. Many a quest 
There hath been undertaken; many a man 
Of tender spirit and soft step hath gone 
Lured on by specious promises, far forth. 
And bitterly returned. We boast ourselves 
In pride of art — and lift our heads on high 
Dangerously climbing, without care bestowed 
To assure well the ground whereon is fixed 
The ladder of our vaunting — where our sires 
Laid deep and strong foundation, there we raise 
Story on story vainly stretched aloft. 
Celestial Meekness — purity of heart. 
With all beloved and gentle memories 
Of soul-refreshing things, up from the din 
Of this most blasphemous and boasting age 
Have taken flight into some purer air : 
They have departed — never seek for them 
In beautiful green places, or on slopes 
Facing the West in any lovely land ; 
No sweet memorials of the Sacrifice 
By which man liveth, greet him on his way; 
He walks in drear and dim disquietude. 
Gathering no store for rest. 

VOL. II. c 



50 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Eternal shame 
Cleave to the mention of the men, whose hands 
Pulled down from pathway side and village green 
The holy emblem of our Faith — whose trust 
Lay not in truths but power — to whom in vain 
The word of caution was pronounced which bid 
Take heed, lest with the tares ye sacrifice 
Wheat also — doubly blind and faithless men. 
Nursed in the gall of carnal bitterness. 
Without one gentle spiritual thought — 
Who in the end approved themselves to him 
Who Mas their Captain and their Father, him 
Who loves not order, hates all beautiful 
And seeml}' things ; — when in their hour of dark 
And devilish misrule, sceptre and crown. 
The sacred types of firm and centered Power, 
Patterns of mighty things invisible. 
Were trodden under foot of men; when full 
On the calm face of Christ's own Spouse, were blown 
Pestilent slanders, and fell poisons poured 
Into her holy cup. 

They reasoned hard 
Of so-deemed spiritual truths — and taught 



LESSON III. 51 

The life of God to spend itself on words. 

Objections and divisions, and false depth 

Of sentence intricate — they led the soul 

Of human kind, already prone to ill. 

But now in course of wholesome discipline 

Trained to bow down to heaven-appointed rule, 

And keep the harmony of God's great reign. 

To break those bonds in sunder, and in pride 

To feel its strength, and self-intrusted power. 

And tempt alone the perilous path of life 

Where once the Saints, a meek and comely band. 

Walked strong in union. Trust me, it is hard. 

It is most hard for gentle souls to live 

And not to burst abroad with very woe, 

When words and offices of Heavenly Love 

Win not an a.nswer in the heartless world ; 

When all our Piety and all our Zeal 

Lie like a level swamp — Oh slow the hearts, 

And deaf the ears unto the voice of Heaven, 

' I came fiot to send Peace upon the earth ;' 

True, we have tamed, or think that we have tamed 

Outbreakings into blood ; true, that the edge 

Of persecuting sword is turned and dull ; 

c 2 



.l2 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

The fierce depravity of human act 

Roughs not our surface now; but with false care 

Full deeply we have mixed our portion in. 

Till the fell poison festers in all ranks. 

And even the hearts we fold unto our breast 

Are bitten, deadly bitten. Where is Love? 

Where is the blessed Fold, that we may run 

And shelter us? Oh God, they should have kept 

A light upon the corners of thy Fold, 

To guide the wanderers in the desert wide : 

But they have fought for words, and striven for names. 

And fallen down dead among the famished sheep ; 

And round us howls the desolating wind. 

And each the other knows not ; there hath fallen 

Darkness that may be felt upon our path ; 

But Thou art just, and righteous are thy ways : — 

Where are the calm retreats our Fathers gave 

To Holy Meditation — where the Fanes 

That rolled their tribute of unceasing praise 

Up to the gates of Heaven — and where the towers 

Thick rising o'er the twice-converted land. 

Warning the Peasant in his simple toil 

With never-failinff memories of God ? 



LESSON III. 53 

From their sad ruins and their crumbling shafts 
Hath gone a cry to Heaven. — Ere now methinks 
This Island Home of ours should have been spread 
With mighty Temples^, morn nor solemn eve 
Wanting the voice of Prayer. Oh I could weep 
Even at the thought of ancient blessedness — 
But we must pray and toil — the vengeance-cloud 
Stoops tempest-laden on our godless land ; 
But we will forth, sweet love, and speak with God, 
It may be we shall find a saving band 
Of ten meek-hearted men; — blessed and wise. 
Could we but win so many. 

But the Night 
Falls down the Heaven, and mists of silver dew 
Strike chill upon the sense, and mournful thoughts 
Come thick upon me, and the truant tears 
Stand hot upon my cheek. Then cease we here: 
And at some fitter time take up the lyre 
In peaceful mood, and meditate sweet strains 
For future years, of Sorrow staid on hope. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



LESSON IV. 



HEAVEN-GATES ARE NOT SO HIGHLY ARCHED 



AS PRINCES' PALACES ; THEY THAT ENTER THERE 
MUST GO UPON THEIR KNEES. 

WEBSTER. Duchess of Malji. 



LESSON THE FOURTH. 



Rememberest thou that solemn Eventide 

When last we parted ; we had wandered forth 

Down that steep hill-path to the level moor; 

It was not long before the golden sun 

Wheeled sloping to the Western mountain's brink, 

And presently a canopy of clouds 

Folded him in with curtains of deep fire — 

And so he sunk, slow and majestical. 

Leaving a wake of glory ; every bird 

Sung his last carol, poised upon his branch 

Of night-repose, and every little flower 

Closed in its beauties in its drooping breast. 

c 5 



58 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

We sat upon the green marge of a stream 
Reed- skirted, and the fragments of faint light 
Leapt in and out among the yellow stalks. 
Or peacefully reposed within the breast 
Of the mid-river. Our discourse had been 
Of Infancy and Youth : the hills of fern 
And meadows of thick cowslips floated past 
Our mental vision, and a faint sweet smell 
Seemed half to come upon some inward sense. 
But we had ceased to speak, and on our ear 
Dwelt the last words with oft recurring sound. 
Mingling most fitly with the distant fall. 
And the low booming of the passing dorr. 

1 told thee, ere we parted home that night, 
A thousand undistinguishable fears 
Of heavy days to come; I mourned to see 
Beauty and Freedom, in the daily talk 
Of men heard frequent, on the lips of all 
A constant theme, undying sounds that set 
The slumbering spirit of mankind on work, 
That they were names alone — that the dull age 
Knows not their presence passing daily by. 



LESSON IV. 59 

And seeks them where they dwell not; that we throw 
Our dowry of sweet Peace unto the winds ; 
That we have proudly sought and duly earned 
A desolating curse from righteous Heaven. 

Perchance thou art too young, and that smooth brow 
Built upwards through thy gently- crisped hair 
Hath not those records stampt indelibly 
Which Care, severe Historian, writes aloft 
That all may read ; perchance the tender blue 
So deep within thine eyes, is all too bright 
And cloudless yet — perchance I spake of things 
By thee unheeded. Purity and light. 
Thy blessed chamber, thy beloved home. 
Brothers and sisters, and in humbler life 
Some chosen spirits of first thoughts and few. 
These are thy helpmates ; all thine outward world 
Our wooded hills and thickly cottaged vales; 
Thine inward nurture fetched from communings 
With the great Comforter, in stillest hours, 
And from the pages of that wondrous Book 
Which deepens as we search, whence we may draw 
Waters that spring into eternal life. 



60 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

As every day windeth its train along 
Of sunny hours chequered with passing clouds, 
We grow in spirit, and the holy work 
Of God goes forward still. Each rising morn 
Calls us from lightest slumbers to give thanks. 
And every night we weave a wreath of praise 
With sweeter blossoms of our rising Spring. 
The holy leaven works, and all the lump 
Ere long will penetrate : for all our life 
Will speed as doth a dove upon the wing; 
The day will seem no longer, when the Sun 
In age sets on us, than in this our morn 
Seems the young dawning but an hour gone by. 

Dear Genius of my musings, let us now 
Rise to the middle Heaven, and thence look down 
On the tossing waste of Cares, and from the wall 
Of Love's serenest temple, catch afar 
The beatings of the fevered heart of the world. 
Canst thou, bound to the chariot-path of God, 
Traverse the dread circumference — canst thou 
Keep pace with the errant moon — or trace the star 
Night after night, that wanders over Heaven ? 



LESSON IV. 61 

Canst thouj the nursling of thy peaceful home. 

Look without trembling down the dizzy height, 

And see the flaming vapours rolled around 

The journey of the Day-god, and far off 

Fringing the borders of the pendent world. 

Dark cloudy heaps, that love to gather gloom 

Even from the fields the Sun hath sown with light ? 

Come, let us rise together: and as He 

Whose raiment glistered on the wondrous Mount 

In sweetest converse with the Sons of Liffht 

o 

Yet spoke of human pain, and that decease 
He should accomplish at Jerusalem ; 
So take we into nearer sight of Heaven 
Thoughts that are born of mortal suffering ; 
Thither ascending, where in open day 
Of the full shining of God's countenance 
Lie treasured all the secret sins of Earth. 

As one who wandering in the Western land 
Over a hill of golden-blossomed furze 
Amid gray rocks, where the red cup-moss grows. 
Above the straggling fern, when now with toil 
Of straining limbs he gains the beaconed top, 



62 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

Looks over into valleys wonderful. 

Thick-timbered valleys, with their fair church-towers, 

Stretched into hazy distance, till a bank 

Of bright blue hills with outline gently curved 

Stands up before the sunset; so my Soul 

Hath gained a vantage ground, and we can see 

A stretch of airy prospect opening wide ; 

Dost thou not hear, beloved, how the air 

Is trembling with the whisper of light wings? 

These are the passengers that make their road 

From God to men, and traffic in our hearts, 

With cargoes of rich grace and help divine ; 

Repentant tears for nectar take they back, 

Mourning for song — and there is joy in Heaven. 

Dost thou not see the underlying world 

Clad with an outer zone of brooding light. 

Whence inward ever sparkles leap and flash 

Like the sea-spray beneath the Evening-star ? 

These are the tides of Hope, that daily fill 

Life's river : thus it is decreed on high. 

Because all light and gladness speeds away 

Into the dark ; and from the life of man 

There floweth daily forth a stream of joy 



LESSON IV. 6S 

Into a chasm whose depth we know not of; 

Therefore the soul doth day by day demand 

Fresh food for strong desire, and therefore Hope, 

Like ever-youthful Hebe to the throng 

Of the immortals on Olympus' top. 

Stands ministering, and from her golden cup 

Deals sweetest potion to the thirsting soul. 

It sorteth well with weakness to have need 
To lean upon a stronger, and depend 
Even for each step upon another's will : 
It suiteth well with Man's infirmity 
To be linked fast with onward-looking Hope, 
And Doubt, and strong Desire — to see but part 
Of all before it — and but now and then 
Gain a bright glimpse of Beauty — now and then 
To feel a sprinkling of the pleasant spray 
Of the great Ocean-stream of Truth, that laves 
With living floods the walls of the City of Life. 

But wherefore doth Infirmity still haunt 
The mournful destinies of human kind ? 
Why, since the Earth is full of Beauty, lacks 



64 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Her best inhabitant in his best part 
His rightful share apportioned? Why doth Man, 
Sole heir of misery, walk the happy earth. 
Feeding on poisons, shut from perfect joy ? 

Because the beauties of this nether world 
Are born, and live and die, and their reward 
Is, that from them one particle of bliss 
Makes way into the life of higher things. 
Nourishing that whence nourishment may flow 
Up to the soul of man, the holy place 
Of this great natural Temple. The small flower 
That was our favourite in the happy years 
Of childhood, in each scheme of riper days 
Hath borne its part ; but it hath long ago 
Passed into earth and laid its beauty by : 
And some that seem eternal — the dark hills 
And thickly-timbered valleys, the great sea. 
The never-changing watchers of the sky. 
Are daily testimonies, by whose word 
Speaks the great Spirit to the soul of man. 
So that their place is finally assigned 
In universal Being, and their rank 



LESSON IV. 65 

Defined, and to what end they minister. 
And to that end how far. 

jl But who shall set 

Definite limits to the human soul. 
Or bound the mighty yearnings of desire 
Wherewith the Spirit labours after Truth .f* 
All natural teaching — all the thoughts that owe 
Their being to the multitude of things 
Which crowd upon us daily from without. 
Go forward without labour — and when spurred 
By call for mightier energies, the soul 
Summons its hidden forces, and springs up 
Mail-clad in most unvanquishable might, 
A bright aspirant to a higher meed 
Of Beauty and Desire ; thence to look up 
To some yet loftier spiritual throne. 
Because the heart of man is capable 
Of all degrees of purity and power ; 
Because the purest heart is mightiest 
For strife with evil; therefore is the life 
Of man encompassed with infirmity ; 



66 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

And therefore to the kingdom of our God 
Much tribulation is the beaten path. 

Shall miserable Man, the sport of winds 
And the keen breath of the eager winter air, 
Think condescension to bow down in woe. 
To court his brother dust, and lift his cries. 
Wafting against the thunder-thrones of Heaven 
The incense of his wailings ? Not that power 
Is thereby sacrificed, or human souls 
Lose aught of marvellous splendour — know ye not 
That he who kneels is higher than who stands? 
The prostrate than the upright — the opprest 
Than the oppressor — how more heavenly light 
Breaks in upon the spirit through distress? 
The reed that waves along the river's brink. 
Spearing its way into the summer air. 
Is not so glorious, as when laid by winds 
It rests upon the mirror of the flood. 
Gemmed with bright globes of dew — the stream that winds 
Through unopposing flats its teeming way, 
Floated with merchandise to the broad sea. 
We love not like the tumbling mountain linn. 



LESSON IV. 6ir 

That hath not where to flow, breaking its path 
Through fragments rough, and over mossy crags, 
Down to the headlong cliff that tops the waves. 

Hast thou not marked, how close together linked 
Glory and Sadness walk — how never flower 
Were half so beautiful, did we not know 
That it must droop and wither — deem not then 
That all the anguish-cries of this great world 
Which reach us where we stand, find not in Heaven 
Fit greeting; there are those who minister 
Outside the golden gates, to purify 
The sorrow and the joy that enters there; 
And I have heard from that bright Visitant 
Who comes to me each night, when my small flock 
Is folded safe, by wearied Nature left 
To the great Shepherd who can never sleep. 
That often times the pale and weeping souls 
Dazzle them as they pass to meet their Lord 
In glittering frost-robes of the purest spar 
Circled with many croAvns ; and often times 
One who was joyous all, and in the world 
Shone like a star, comes drooping in a mist. 



68 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

And faulters at the steep and narrow stair ; 
Nor enters, till with sprinkling and with words 
The shadow of the earthy melt away. 

Hear thou a vision — fitly told thee now 
When we are parted from the nether world, 
A dream of import strange, and prophecy 
Which after-time shall prove. 'Twas on a night 
Such as my spirit loves — moonlit and calm. 
But veiled with amber mist, wherein there dwelt 
Light, clothing equally the arch of Heaven. 
I had flown upwards on the stripping wings 
Of Meditation through the ample sky ; 
By the Queen-crescent, and past many a star 
Thronged witli unsinning shapes, wliose atmosphere 
Made clearer shining round me as I fled. 
Reluctantly bound onward through the vast 
And peopled universe: and now a light 
Fell on me as from some self-shining tract, 
Broad and uncentered, and I felt my thoughts 
Grew pure and wonderful, and even this flesh 
Into a glorious temple purified, 
For such a saintly soul as now it shrined 



LESSON IV. 69 

.Vot all unfitting. And methought in sight 
Full opposite^ a beautiful green land, 
In light not clear nor dark ; a mellow day 
Shed its soft influence over hill and dale. 
And tenderest foliage down a hundred dells 
Spread over paths that wound beside the bed 
Of tinkling streamlets. Thickly scattered stood 
Elm-shaded cottages, and wreathed smoke 
In bright blue curls went up, and o'er the vales 
That lay toward the waves, slept peacefully. 
'Twas such a land as summer travellers see 
On Britain's Western shores, who from the hills 
Painfully climbed, beyond the Severn sea 
Look over into Cambria, facing South, 
To Aberavon, by the stream of Taff, 
And old Glamorgan. — Then my fancy changed; 
'Twas the third morning since my angel-guide 
Landed me from strange voyage; scarcely yet 
The search of this new home had given repose 
To my way-wearied eyes. Thou canst not tell 
How bright a morn it was — never such sun 
Looked on the nether earth, as now above 
Heaven's everlasting hills with perfect orb 



70 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Rose joyous, and from every brake the birds 

Under the thick leaves starred with prisms of dew 

Crowded their mellow warbles. Shapes in white 

Over the lawns and by the hedge-row sides 

Moved glorious — all the breathings of the air 

Were full of joy — and every passing sound 

Thrilled through me like the touch of her I love. 

And on a sudden from an upland copse 

Tangled with woodbine, and lithe virgin-bower, 

Broke forth a river of full melody, 

Gushing like some long reach of pouring linn 

In underlying valley, when the stars 

Are out upon the mountain. Mute I turned 

And listened, till the music of that voice 

So took my senses captive, that I stood 

Emptied of thought and human consciousness; 

Like her who from the sulphur-steaming vale 

Hurrying away in olden time, looked back 

On Admah and Zeboim, and the plain 

Of fruitful Sodom lately loved, and there 

As in her fondness she had looked, stood fixed. 

" Hither," it said, " come hither, child of earth, 

Curb thy wild leapings of unquiet thought. 



LESSON IV. 71 

And glide into the calm of hope fulfilled. 

Here is no sport of words, nor lying smile 

Of rash undowried promise ; hither come 

And I will show thee blest realities 

More bright than earthly dreams." As by a charm 

Led on, I followed, through the scented air 

Moving with speed of thought, till in a shade 

Most like to that, where in the morn of life 

I opened forth to thee mine inner heart 

When thou hadst picked thine apron full of flowers, — 

I saw an angel form, serene and tall. 

Far lifted into blessedness of look 

Above our mortal state; and yet methought 

I knew her eyes, I knew her cast of shape. 

As when we see a new-acquainted face 

Fixed on us strangely with accustomed looks. 

' Draw near,' she said, in that same wondrous voice 

That filled the air of heaven, heard nigher now. 

Like some clear organ, when the swell of song 

Tempers the long-drawn music; 'let me look 

Into thy face, and read thine open soul. 

For blessed Angels see not as ye see 

Down on the nether earth ; each fleeting spark 



72 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Of high desire, and each conception bold 

Of worthy daring, to the insight keen 

Of Heavenly Spirits hath its proper form 

And presence, as to thee its earthy veil:' — 

And as she spoke, a flush of sudden love 

Like shade athwart a sunny upland thrown. 

Passed on her cheek — 'dear child, the child of tears. 

Thou didst not know me; scarcely had thy face 

Learned to acknowledge with uncertain calm 

(Which mother-love would fain hear called a smile) 

My careful ministrations, when a voice 

Mysterious called, first softly and scarce heard. 

Then loud and louder waxing — " Come away" — 

Till the dread sound struck on my throbbing brain 

And I was carried from thee. Ever since 

In the pure Summer air of this sweet land, 

God hath been ripening for enjoyment high 

My patient spirit; but thine earthly speech 

Hath not the signs that might disclose to thee 

By what enlightening what blessed sight 

These eyes have gained — or how the faithful sense 

Close-leaguing with the soul, searches unchecked 



LESSON IV. 73 

Things that lie hid beyond the visible blue 
And past the flickering stars.' 

^But thou mayest know- 
Thus far, that there are many globes, as this 
Hung in the middle firmament, where dwell 
Pure spirits, ruling or obeying each 
The gentle course of those their shining homes, 
Or resting after lives of over-toil. 
Or from the sources,, at whose distant streams 
They loved to drink on earth, feeding at will 
Their ever-new desire; some by the flood 
That girds the city of God, hold communing 
With those that pass, or muse along the brink, 
Or cull the lavish flowers; some that love best 
To dwell in conflict, on the verge extreme 
Sit of this tract of Heaven, where night and day 
The various plunging of the chafed sea 
Doth homage to their restless thirst of change.' 

' This isle of ours (to which I marvel how 
Thy steps have come,) its own inhabitants 
Hath portioned, a blest tribe, who love the calm, 

VOL. II. D 



74 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

And tend these mystic plants, and night and morn 

(For night and morn we mark as on the earth 

Though not with setting or returning light, 

But with alternate song, and visits new 

Of blessed ones from God) for worship meet, 

Drawing the lengthened chaunt, and marrying 

The raptures of Earth's sweetest melodies 

To pure assurance of untroubled souls. 

Thou sawest, if thy way I right divine 

To have lain upward, for thou art not yet 

As one of us, and shalt return to earth. 

Where many valleys meet, a gulf of air. 

Quiet, and full of this our aether-light; 

Call this ^the Haven of Lost Hope,' — for here 

Speed all the holy souls who left the world 

While Hope w'as young, and Promise in her bud;- 

Hither they speed, and wait till there shall sound 

A call to higher meed of blessedness. 

The second in Heaven's roll, (if we may trust 

The songs of the bright quires that hover round,) 

Next to the sainted ones, that fought the fight 

Against the sword, or fire, or piercing scorn. 

Enduring unto death. If truly rise 



LESSON IV. 75 

Thoughts on my spirit (and responses false 
Have seldom place in temples purified) 
Thou to this island after certain days 
Shalt send a blest inhabitant^ thyself, 
Or other, from the chambers of thine heart 
Unwilling, parted, friend of hopes and fears. 
^Weep not,' for one large tear, born first of joy. 
And fully ripened by a throe of grief 
Rolled on my cheek, ^weep not,' for ill thou knowest 
That earthly hope is like the precious ore 
Rough and unseemly, till unwelcome force 
Crush it in sunder, and the glittering wreck 
Refine with fire, till its calm shining face 
Give back the unbroken sky. Thou canst not tell 
How rich a dowry Sorrow gives the soul. 
How firm a faith, and eagle-sight of God. 
So mayst thou see upon the Earth at night. 
After a day of storms, whose sun hath set 
In sorrow, when the horizontal round 
Is hemmed by sullen clouds, there opens forth 
High in the zenith a clear space, in which 
As in a gulf embayed, broods quietly 
The glory of the Moon, from underneath 

d2 



76 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Her misty veil sent upwards; and the stars 
Far up the avenues of light disclose/ 

She ceased to speak — and ought of joy or fear 
That might be left me from that voice divine 
Not long was present; for along the shade 
A troop of blessed children sporting past — 
Oft have I mused ere now on ancient gems, 
And sculptured forms of godlike symmetry. 
And grace of pictured limbs; but never yet 
Saw I such beauty, nor in song attained 
So fair conceit, as now in light of Love 
Shone in my sight these little ones of Heaven. 
Naked they were, if that were nakedness 
Which clothed the spirit pure with glorious veil, 
The richest dress of God's own fashioning; 
With perfect liberty and sport of limb 
They gambolled by us on the Summer turf. 
Each chasing other, and in meetings fond 
Twining their innocent arms, and snatching oft 
Kisses of playful love ; and then they stood 
As children might have stood if children were 
In the first Paradise, arm over arm. 



LESSON IV. 77 

Clad with a crimson glow, listening our talk. 
Their little breasts panting with joy and play. 
For there had flowed afresh from that sweet fount 
Words of high import, and oft questioning 
I dwelt upon her lips; and thus had staid 
Contented ever, but the light began 
Slowly to wane around me, and her form 
Dimmer and dimmer grew, her voice more faint. 
Her answers rare and short; — the sporting band 
Of holy children last remained in sight. 
And parted last; and all around me then 
Was darkness, till our grange and humble Church, 
And row of limes that eastward fence our home. 
Now visible against the waking dawn. 
Came slowly into presence, and this Earth 
Flowed in, and loosed the avenues of sense. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



LESSON V 



"CHURCH-YARDS ARE OUR CITIES, UNTO WHICH 

THE MOST REPAIR, THAT ARE IN GOODNESS RICH ; 

THERE IS THE BEST CONCOURSE AND CONFLUENCE, 

THERE ARE THE HOLY SUBURBS, AND FROM THENCE 

BEGINS GOD'S CITY, NEW JERUSALEM, 

WHICH DOTH EXTEND HER UTMOST GATES TO THEM : 

AT THAT GATE THEN, TRIUMPHANT SOUL, DOST THOU 

BEGIN THY TRIUMPH." Donne. 



LESSON THE FIFTH. 



From the great Sun light flows upon the Earth ; 
And every thing that lives this summer morn 
Looks joyous; all along the hills that stretch 
Far southvi^ard, slowly sail the dazzling heaps 
Of whitest vapour; but the upper heaven 
Is deep and clear — above the yellow fields. 
Some thick with grain, and some with pointed sheaves 
Spread as with tents, and some but yesterday . 
Joyed over with loud shouts of harvest joy. 
The dizzy air swims onward — in thick groups 
Over the slopes, and in the cottaged dells. 
Gathered in undistinguishable mass 
Of dark luxuriance, elm, and solemn oak. 
And tender ash, sleep in the lavish light. 

d5 



82 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Come let us forth, my best beloved, and roam 
Along the bowered lanes that thread the vales ; 
For on the bank beneath the arching shade 
Hang purple strawberries, and interchange 
Of leafy harbour, and field path, and hill. 
And the far sea, and underlying dells. 
Will prompt sweet themes of never- failing talk. 

Oft have I seen, when on the mighty hills 
That curve around our bay, in a close nook 
Upon the westward slope, a village tower: 
And I have stood and gazed upon its top 
That looks above the trees, and thought my life 
Would pass full pleasantly beneath its crest; 
So quiet is it, so without pretence 
Most lovely, that the throng of restless hopes 
That ever leap unquiet in the soul 
Might well be charmed in such a presence, down 
To sweet contentment — and the mellowed voice 
Of the past hour hath come upon mine ear 
So sweetly, that I waited where I stood 
To hear its sound again, rather than risk 
Echoes less gentle on a near approach. 



LESSON V. SS 

Bend we our journey thither — for the day 

Is all our own, for ramble or for talk, 

Or seat by the cool mountain stream, or hour 

Of meditation by that modest church : 

For, if I guess aright, there should be there 

Ancient stone monument of honest men. 

Or mouldering cross; and from that arboured nook 

Yon hills will shew most proudly, 'Tis not far : 

Thou art a denizen of mountain air ; 

And the fresh breezes from the sea will fan 

Our brows as we mount upward. 

Gentlest Girl, 
Thou wert a bright creation of ray thought 
In earliest childhood — and my seeking soul 
Wandered ill- satisfied, till one blest day 
Thine image passed athwart it — thou wert then 
A young and happy child, sprightly as life ; 
Yet not so bright or beautiful as that 
Mine inward vision : — but a whispering voice 
Said softly — This is she whom thou didst choose ; 
And thenceforth ever, through the morn of life, 
Thou wert my playmate — thou my only joy. 



84 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Thou my chief sorrow when I saw thee not: — • 

And when my daily consciousness of life 

Was born and died — thy name the last went up, 

Thy name the first, before our Heavenly Guide, 

For favour and protection. All the flowers 

Whose buds I cherished, and in summer heats 

Fed with mock showers, and proudly shewed their bloom; 

For thee I reared, because all beautiful 

And gentle things reminded me of thee : 

Yea, and the morning, and the rise of sun. 

And fall of evening, and the starry host 

If aught I loved, I loved because thy name 

Sounded about me when I looked on them. 

So that the love of thee brought up my soul 

To universal love ; and I have learned 

That there are voices in the silent earth 

That speak unto the heart; that there is power 

Granted from Heaven unto the humblest things; — 

And that not he who strives to gather up 

Into his self-arranged and stubborn thoughts 

The parables of Nature, meets with joy; 

But he who patiently submits his soul 

To God's unwritten teaching — who goes forth 



LESSON V. 

Amidst the majesty of earth and sky 
Humble, as in a mighty presence: waits 
For influence to descend; and murmurs not 
If in his present consciousness no trace 
Of admiration or of lofty thought 
Be shewn — in patience tarrying the full time. 
Till the Beauty that hath passed into his soul 
Shine out upon his thoughts. 

Therefore I love 
All calm and silent things — all things that bear 
Least show of motion or unnatural force; — ■ 
Therefore I love to mark the slow decay 
Of ancient building, or of church-yard Cross, 
Or mouldering Abbey — and as formerly 
I mourned when I remembered how of old 
Where crumbling arches ivy-prop their shafts 
The proud aisle stood, and the full choir of praise 
Rolled solemn from an hundred tongues: — So now 
I seem to see that mighty Providence 
Is justified; that more hath been revealed 
On which the human soul hath lived and grown 
In the departure of old glories — more 



86 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

In cherished memories that keep at home 

Within our breasts, than in the maintenance 

Of the busy action which hath wrought their charm. 

But we are drawing near — this bowered lane 
With ghmpses of the southern bank of hills 
And ever through the bents, the blessed sea 
Far to the West, might stir a heavier heart 
Than thine and mine to leap with childish joy. 
Thanks to the arching boughs for stir of breeze 
Scarce sensible but in their rustling leaves, 
Yet even thus most cooling; thanks for shade 
Dark and continuous as we further climb. 
Like magic corridor deep down in earth. 
Thickening to perfect black; whence in the glare 
Of sickly noon upon the autumn fields, 
I have scared night birds, and have watched the bat 
Pass and repass alternate. How the sense 
Hails the dense gloom, and hastens to the cool : — 
Now rest thee here, where scarce the sun may see 
Our pleasant refuge; where we scarce can tell 
There is an outward universe, so close 
And hallowed is the shade; save where, through length 



LESSON V. 87 

Of dark perspective, yonder shine a group 
Of sunny tombstones, and one window-pane. 
Lit with the noon, is glittering like a star 
Down even to us. 

I heard one say. 
It was an aged dame, whose humble cot 
Fronted our church-yard wall, — she loved to look 
When from the windows of the hallowed pile 
The sunbeam came reflected; she could think 
Fondly, she said, that there were those within 
Whose robes were shining, thronging the deep aisles. 
And the promised glory of the latter house 
Would crowd upon her vision. 

Think we thus : 
And in yon vista of uncertain light 
If we behold in fancy this our life 
Chequered with dark and bright, and at its head 
The emblem of our end — let yonder gleam 
Tell us of glory fetched by angel hands 
To spread upon us: be to us a spark 
Lit at the altar of the Holy One, 
Over the majesty of patient Death 



88 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Hovering^ and waiting its appointed time 
To kindle all to life. 

But fabling thus 
I've led thee from thy rest; and now at once 
Opens upon our sight a goodly range 
Of fretted buttresses, and the low porch 
Invites us, with its antique seat of stone. 
And cool religious shade. But as we climb 
The church-yard steps, look back and see arise 
As if in show, far o'er the bowering leaves 
The southern mountains — see o'er half the sky 
Spread out, a mixture wild of hill and cloud. 

Stand by me here. Beloved, where thick crowd 
On either side the path the headstones white: 
How wonderful is death— how passing thought 
That nearer than yon glorious group of hills. 
Aye, but a scanty foot or two beneath 
This pleasant sunny mound, corruption teems; — 
And that one sight of that which is so near 
Could turn the current of our joyful thoughts. 
Which now not e'en disturbs them. 



LESSON V. 

See this stone^ 
Not, like the rest, full of the dazzling noon, 
But sober brown — round which the ivy twines 
Its searching tendril, and the yew-tree shade 
Just covers the short grave. He mourned not ill 
Who graved the simple plate without a name : 

" This grave's a cradle, where an mfant lyes, 
'Rockt fast asleepe with Death's sad lullabyes." 

And yet methinks he did not care to wrong 

The Genius of the place, when he wrote ^^sad:" — 

The chime of hourly clock, — the mountain stream 

That sends up ever to thy resting-place 

Its gush of many voices — and the crow 

Of matin cock, faint it may be but shrill. 

From elm-embos.omed farms among the dells, — 

These, little slumberer, are thy lullabyes: 

Who would not sleep a sweet and peaceful sleep 

Thus husht and sung to with all pleasant sounds? 

And I can stand beside thy cradle, child. 
And see yon belt of clouds in silent pomp 
Midway the mountain sailing slowly on. 
Whose beaconed top peers over on the vale; — 



90 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

And upward narrowing in thick-timbered dells 

Dark solemn coombs, with wooded buttresses 

Propping his mighty weight — each with its stream. 

Now leaping sportfully from crag to crag, 

Now smoothed in clear black pools — then in the vales. 

Through lanes of bowering foliage glittering on, 

By cots and farms and quiet villages 

And meadows brightest green. Who would not sleep 

Rocked in so fair a cradle? 

But that word. 
That one word — ^ death,' comes over my sick brain 
Wrapping my vision in a sudden swoon; 
Blotting the gorgeous pomp of sun and shade. 
Mountain, and wooded cliff, and sparkling stream, 
In a thick dazzling darkness. — Who art thou 
Under this hillock on the mountain side? 
I love the like of thee with a deep love. 
And therefore called thee dear — thee who art now 
A handful of dull earth. No lullaby es 
Hearest thou now, be they or sweet or sad — 
Not revelry of streams, nor pomp of clouds. 
Not the blue top of mountain — nor the woods 
That clothe the steeps, have any joy for thee. 



LESSON V. 91 

Go to then — tell me not of balmiest rest 
In fairest cradle — for I never felt 
One half so keenly as I feel it now. 
That not the promise of the sweetest sleep 
Can make me smile on Death. Our days and years 
Pass onward — and the mighty of old time 
Have put their glory by, and laid them down 
Undrest of all the attributes they wore. 
In the dark sepulchre — strange preference 
To fly from beds of down and softest strains 
Of timbrel and of pipe, to the cold earth. 
The silent chamber of unknown decay; 
To yield the delicate flesh, so loved of late 
By the informing spirit, to the maw 
Of unrelenting waste; to go abroad 
From the sweet .prison of this moulded clay. 
Into the pathless air, among the vast 
And unnamed multitude of trembling stars; 
Strange journey, to attempt the void unknown 
From whence no news returns; and cast the freight 
Of nicely treasured life at once away. 

Come, let us talk of Death — and sweetly play 
With his black locks, and listen for a while 



9^ SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

To the lone music of the passing wind 

In the rank grass that waves above his bed. 

Is it not wonderful, the darkest day 
Of all the days of life — the hardest wrench 
That tries the coward sense, should mix itself 
In all our gentlest and most joyous moods 
A not unwelcome visitant — that Thought, 
In her quaint wanderings, may not reach a spot 
Of lavish beauty, but the spectre form 
Meets her with greeting, and she gives herself 
To his mysterious converse? I have roamed 
Through many mazes of unregistered 
And undetermined fancy; and I know 
That when the air grows balmy to my feel 
And rarer light falls on me, and sweet sounds 
Dance tremulously round my captive ears, 
I soon shall stumble on some mounded grave; 
And ever of the thoughts that stay with me, 
(There are that flit away) the pleasantest 
Is hand in hand with Death: and my bright hopes, 
Like the strange colours of divided light. 
Fade into pale uncertain violet 
About some hallowed precinct. Can it be 



LESSON V. 93 

That there are blessed memories joined with Death, 
Of those who parted peacefully, and words 
That cling about our hearts, uttered between 
The day and darkness, in Life's twilight time? — 
Oh, I could tell of one whose image comes 
Before my inner sight — I knew her not — 
That ancient dame I told thee of, whose eyes 
Sought for Heaven's glories in the light of Earth, 
She would speak of her, till her heart was full. 
And I would weep for childish waywardness. 
And long to be as she was. 'Twas her own 
And only child ; and never from her side 
Long years, she said, had parted her; in joy 
And beauty she grew up, ever her sire 
Gladdening with smiles, and laying on his heart 
Ointment of purest comfort. On a day 
Heaven sent a worm into this summer flower; 
She told me how they watched her fade away 
As we have watched the clouds of evening fade 
After the sun hath set. Slow were her words, 
And solemn, as she reached the parting tale: 
' *Twas thus we sat and saw our only hope 
Go down into the grave: for many months 



94 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

It was a weary weary life to lead: 
-She weakened by degrees; and every day 
Less light was in her eye, and on her cheek 
Less colour; and the faint quick pulse that beat 
In the blue veins that laced her marble wrist 
Stole without notice on the wary touch. 
Sometimes by day she asked if it were fair, 
By night if it were starlight ; that was all. 
Ye should have seen her but a night and day 
Before she died, how she sat up and spoke, 
How of a sudden light most wonderful 
Looked forward from her eyes, and on her cheek 
Flushed colour, like a bloom from other lands. 
The bloom that shews in flowers beyond the skies. 
And then the words came forth most musical. 
Low-toned and solemn, like the final notes 
Of that grand anthem whose last strain is ' Peace.' 
She spoke of angels, seen in a half light; 
She spoke of friends, long- severed friends, that died 
In early youth, some fair and tall, and some 
Most innocent children, that with earnest gaze 
Looked ever in upon her all the night. 
And faded slow into the light of morn. 



LESSON V. 95 

And so she passed away; and now her grave 
Ten summers and ten winters hath been green ; 
We dug it in a still and shady place; 
There is no headstone; for we deemed it vain 
To carve her record in a mouldering slab. 
Whose name is written in the Book of Life.' 

I am not one whose pleasure is to weave 
Tales highly wrought of sudden accident, 
Unlooked-for recognition, or desire 
Strangely fulfilled; but yet I have a tale 
Which will bring tears of pity to thine eyes. 
And summon all thy sadness to attend 
A willing mourner in a funeral train. 
Within our hilly bay, hard by the beach. 
Dwelt one whose nightly service was to watch 
All deeds of outlaws on the Channel trade. 
Him on the cliff-side pathways we might see 
Early and late, and meet in the dusk eve 
Up the steep tracks, threading the oaken copse. 
That delves into the sea. One summer morn, 
When the bright Sun looked down upon the earth 
Without a cloud, and all along the shore 



96 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Twinkled the restless sparkles, he rode by. 

And passing offered salutation gay, 

As one who in the beauty and the warmth 

Of that most blessed morning bore a part. 

That day we wandered, my dear friend and I, 

Far off along the hills, up perilous paths 

Gathering the rock-plants, or with hollowed hand 

Scooping the streams that trickled down the dells: 

Till from a peak we saw the fiery sun 

Sink down into the sea, and twilight fell; 

And ere we reached our cot, the distant lights 

Shone from the Cambrian coast, and from the isle 

Unseen in the mid-channel. From his cot 

There looked into the bosom of the bay 

A steady light — and when we reached our home 

We slept and thought not of him. In the morn 

Rumour was busy — and her minister 

Our bustling hostess, told how all the night 

His anxious bride (for one short month ago 

They gave their troths) had watched for his return ; 

How there came by a stranger with his horse. 

Who answered not, when breathless she enquired 

Where he was left, and why. Many with search 



LESSON V. 97 

Hopeless and wearisome, toiled all the day ; 

And when the evening came, upon the beach 

Below that awful steep where winds the road 

Cut in the mountain-side above the sea. 

They found a cold and melancholy corpse 

With outstretched arms and strangely-gathered limbs. 

Like one who died in sudden and sharp pain; 

And deeply gashed on either side the brow 

The gaping death-marks of a cruel fall. 

Thou wouldst have wept to see her as she past 

To snatch her scanty comfort of a look. 

And then to see him, warm but now and gay, 

And full of soft endearments, hidden deep 

In the cold ground: — it was a blank still face. 

But bearing trace of tears, and ashy pale. 

Stiffened to stone by strong and sudden grief. 

Her little stock of hopes, just anchored safe 

In a calm port, were sent adrift again 

Upon the howling wintry sea of life: 

And she is fain to gather up afresh 

The cast-off weeds of past prosperity, 

And deck her as she may. But a sad rent 

Hath Sorrow made in her; nor can she now 

VOL. II. E 



98 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Knit up her ravelled hopes, nor summon heart 
To enter on Life's journey all alone, 
A new and weary way. But time will come 
When memory of her woe shall be to her 
A sweet companion — Sorrow shall have past 
Into her being, and have chastened well 
The lawless risings of unquiet thought. 

Nearer this tale hath carried me to think 
Of mine own grief: should I not weary thee 
With record of affliction, I would dwell 
On playful hopes too pitilessly crushed. 
And voices that made glad my soul erewhile. 
Quenched in cold earth — coming like saddened bells 
Far off and faint beneath the muffling clay. 
*But one there was that left me, whose fresh loss 
Time, nor the changeful world, hath never healed. 
I am not skilled with robe of artful verse 
To cheat the destitution of deep woe- 
Sorrow and I in the sunny years of youth 
Have been but rare companions; I have loved 

* The following lines are a humble tribute to the cherished 
memory of Arthur Henry Hallam. 



LESSON V. 99 

Rather in Beauty's temple ministrant 

To treasure up sweet music, and enshrine 

Thee, the bright Saint of my best holiday. 

In some deep- fretted niche of Poesy ; 

But those short tidings reached me — and my heart 

Was sorely stricken, and the bitter springs 

Were broken up within me. 

Gentle soul. 
That ever moved among us in a veil 
Of heavenly lustre ; in whose presence thoughts 
Of common import shone with light divine; 
Whence we drew sweetness, as from out a well 
Of honey, pure and deep; thine earthly form 
Was not the investiture of daily men. 
But thou didst wear a glory in thy look 
From inward converse with the Spirit of Love. 
And thou hadst won in the first strife of youth 
Trophies that gladdened hope, and pointed on 
To days when we should stand and minister 
At the full triumphs of thy gathered strength. 

The twain were rent asunder in an hour 
Of which we knew not ; and the face we loved 

E 2 



100 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

With common earth is mingled; but the Soul 
Drinks deep of Beauty, and in vision clear 
Searches the glorious features from whose light 
Flows every joy that shines on us below. 

It was a question wonderful and deep 
•^Who knoweth if to live be but to die, 
' And Death be Life ?' In an unblessed time 
It past from one whose lips were passages 
For sweetest music, whose unwearied soul 
Dwelt among human griefs ; who loved to find 
The wrecks of joy and faded flowers of Hope. 
Since have the wide earth and the arch of Heaven 
Rung with blest answer; — and all Poesy 
And dreams of holy men, and chrystal tears 
Of the grave- circling mourners, have been blent 
With light of Promise that can never fade. 

'Twas the faint dawn; and from the waking Earth 
Soft prayers were rising to the gate of heaven ; 
The busy lark had been before, and sung 
Floating in middle air, whether she love 
To swell the incense of the offering Earth, 
Or to be first of all created things 



LESSON V. 101 

To give glad welcome to the peering Morn. 

In old Verona sweetly slept the while 

That Bard of blessed soul, to whom pure dreams 

Ministered ever, and sweet strains of song 

Lulled him the night-hours through. 

Stole not so softly now the slow-paced light 

Into that chamber dim, as moved before 

His sight the vision of his Laura's form ; 

All still and heavenly, and her lustrous eyes 

Quietly bent upon him, angel-mild. 

Not in the restlessness of earthly love,— 

Most like (but more serene) the look of one 

Who hath drunk deep of woe, and rests in faith. 

They had been severed long — meeting like this 

Might seem to warrant question. She replied, 

(Thou can'st njot tell, love, how she said those words. 

But thou hast heard those sweetest notes of all 

Prest from the rapturous breast of nightingale. 

That hath their airy dwelling here and there 

Circling thee where thou standest in the gloom) 

' I live, beloved; but 'tis thou art dead; 

^ Time is when thou shalt live.' 

See how the light 
Dwells on yon mountain-side — marking each dell^ 



102 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

And every buttress of the velvet turf. 

So that we see the ribbed shadows stretch 

Lengthened, as by the westering sun, along 

This northward slope — and yet the day is high : 

But turn we homeward — and that favoured hill 

That overlooks our bay, reach, when the sun 

Dips in the ocean brim. We may not lose. 

After a day all consecrate as this. 

The holy influence which on human souls 

Flows from the sunset. Life and earthly things 

And calls importunate for daily toil 

Grant not such respite often as this day 

We two have freely shared. Thankfully rise. 

Dear Sister of my heart, from thy low seat. 

Thankfully rise, and softly move away — 

IMove, like a dream — for all around us hangs 

The balanced calm of hills and arching sky. 

And the solemn sleep of Death ; one startling word 

Breaks the fair spell for ever. 

Pass we hence; 
And as that reverend Priest of Poesy, 
Whose presence shines upon these twilight times, 
Hath, in the churchyard in the mountains, done 
One Sacrifice whose scent shall fill the world. 



LESSON V. lOS 

So shall this hour be fresh in memory, 

A time to speak of in our thankful prayers. 

If hallowed light of universal love 

Each rising thought have steeped, and there have passed 

Into our spoken words, aught that may teach 

To the world's restless heart the bliss of calm. 

The heavenly joy of well-assured Hope, 

And the strong searchings of the soul for God. 



THE 



SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 



LESSON VL 



e5 



NOW TO WITHDRAW MY PEN 
AND NOW A WHILE TO REST 
ME SEMETH IT FOR THE BESTE. 
THE FORE CASTEL OF MY SHIP 
SHAL GLIDE AND SMOTHELY SLIP 
OUT OF THE WAVES WODE 
OF THE STORMYE FLOUDE: 
SHOTE ANKER, AND LYE AT RODE" 
AND SAYLE NOT FARRE A BRODE, 
TILL THE COOSTE BE CLERE 
THAT THE LODE STARRE APPERE; 
MY SHYP NOW WILL I PERE 
TOWARD THE PORT SALU 
OF OUR SAVIOUR JESU." 

Skelton- 



LESSON THE SIXTH. 



Erewhile of Death, and human suffering 

Spoke we, and lingered, as in some dark wood 

The pilgrim lingers, ere he dare approach 

The golden shrine, where on his sight shall break 

Light of pure grace from Heaven; — the end of toil 

Is near — and through the trembling intervals 

Of over-arching boughs, rich pinnacles 

Spire up into the sky — the music deep 

Of prayer- inviting bells, fills all the air. 

No longer heard in fitful swells and falls 

Over far fields and waters, but poured forth 

As if the voice of the cathedral pile 

From tower and transept, and the thousand forms 



108 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Of sculptured saints and angels, sent at once 
Its hymn of holy rapture up to God. 

As when the stars in heaven around the moon 
Shew brightly, and the under air is calm, 
All headland tops, and beacon-towers and steeps 
Are clothed with visible light, and from above 
The glory of the boundless firmament 
Flows downward, and the heavenly host is seen. 
The heart of him that watches by the fold 
Swells in his breast for joy; so riseth now 
My labouring bosom, and the choking tears 
Are thronging on my voice for very joy 
At prospect of the inner life divine. 

Light from afar — the night is well-nigh spent, 
The day at hand; no more of earthly woe. 
Of conflict now no more; — the laver pure 
Of new Baptismal innocence, the Ark 
That bears us through the flood which fell for sin. 
And lands us in the country far away. 
All love, all knowledge of divinest lore 
Regained — the pathway shining like the light 



LESSON VI. 109 

That shineth ever to the perfect day. 
These be our converse novir; yon solemn Church 
The sanctuary of Earth, with its flushed tower 
Is full in view — and we are here in peace 
With the sunset falling round us, by our hearth; 
Meet time for talk of mystic truths and high. 
Best pondered on when every fleeting thing 
Is shut from our observance, and the sight 
From outward lures turns inward on the soul. 
And thou art with me, who hast ever been 
The Spirit of my song — no longer now 
Half-known, untried, a theme of restless thought. 
By self-distrusting fondness glorified; 
But tried and known, approved and manifest. 
Partaker of a thousand wakeful thoughts. 
And cares of daily love. 

The April moon 
When she looks over thickets fresh in green 
Whose young leaves tremble in her golden light 
Tempereth not with such a peaceful charm 
The rapturous gush of bowered nightingale. 
As doth thy quiet look my struggling thoughts; 



110 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Nor if I guess aright, doth the full song 

Of the night-warbler with more life endow 

The slumbering moonlight, than these tuneful words 

Thy patient spirit, rapt in holy calm 

Of contemplation, married to desire, 

Wandering or resting as affection leads. 

We have been dwellers in a lovely land, 
A land of lavish lights and floating shades, 
And broad green flats, bordered by woody capes 
That lessen ever as they stretch away 
Into the distance blue ; a land of hills. 
Cloud-gathering ranges, on whose ancient breast 
The morning mists repose; each autumn tide 
Deep purple with the heath-bloom; from whose brow 
We might behold the crimson Sun go down 
Behind the barrier of the Western sea: 
A land of beautiful and stately fanes. 
Aerial temples most magnificent. 
Rising with clusters of rich pinnacles 
And fretted battlements ; a land of towers 
Where sleeps the music of deep-voiced bells. 
Save when in holiday time the joyous air 



LESSON VI. Ill 

Ebbs to the welling sound; and Sabbath morn^ 
When from a choir of hill-side villages 
The peaceful invitation churchward chimes. 
So were our souls brought up to love this earth 
And feed on natural beauty: and the light 
Of our own sunsets, and the mountains blue 
That girt around our home, were very parts 
Of our young being; linked with all we knew, 
Centres of interest for undying thoughts 
And themes of mindful converse. Happy they 
Who in the fresh and dawning time of youth 
Have dwelt in such a land, tuning their souls 
To the deep melodies of Nature's laws 
Heard in the after time of riper thought 
Reflective on past seasons of delight. 

But what is Beauty? why doth human art 
Strive ever to attain similitude 
With some bright idol of creative mind? 
Why do the trembling stars, and mighty hills. 
And forms of moving grace, and the deep fire 
Of tender eyes, and gloom, and setting suns 
All feed in turn one unfulfilled desire? 



112 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Deep theme is this for youthful lovers' thought 
And fittest dwelt on when thy presence sheds 
Sweet Peace around me; when then if not now. 
When in the clearest light of tranquil love 
Disrobed of Earth's unrest, like some fair star 
Thou rulest in the firmament of thought. 

Begin we then in humble strains, and search 
With patient hope — it may be we shall find 
If lowly caution guide our steps; for oft 
Truth veileth back her bright and queenly form 
From eyes of mortal men ; and seek not we 
To look within, for fear with too much light 
One glimpse benight us : let it be enough 
To rule the spirit into harmony 
With the great world around: for every thing 
That therein is beareth a separate part 
In the soul's teaching: let it be enough 
Not by a stretch of thought, or painful strain 
Of faculty acquired, but with pure love, 
Pure and untaught, save what the inner light 
Of the great Spirit teacheth, to lay bare 



LESSON VI. 113 

The soul to the influence of each little flower 

That springs beneath our feet; and go our way 

Rejoicing in the fond companionship 

Of every humblest thing ; communion blest 

In the unpitied and unmurmured woes 

And all the simple joys of Nature's babes. 

Deep in a chamber of the inner soul 
The folded principles of action lie 
As in a bud inclosed^ which ere the time 
Of leaf-awakening Spring comes kindly on^, 
Containeth sprays and flowers that are to be; — 
Thus think thou of the soul ; for better thus 
Than to desert the mighty parable 
That falls unceasing on the ear of man. 
And seek new "processes of laboured thought 
That have no fellows in the world of things. 

Law is the King of all; we live and move 
Not without firm conditions guarded well 
In the great Mind that rules us. Manifold 
Are the inward workings of the soul; — now seen 
And open to the sense, as when we teach 



114 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Unto our anguished hearts sufferance of woe; 

Now only visible to Angel sight 

Or to the eyes of God — gradual and deep. 

Owing no homage to the tyrant will. 

But each and all, the wrested soul of man 

Brings nearer to the course of laws divine ; 

Whether by strong self-chiding, or by length 

Of intercourse with heavenly messengers, 

Who veil their presence in the things of Earth. 

And therefore Beauty is not spread in vain 

Upon this world of man — God is not left 

Without his witness; and the daily task 

Of human kind is bound in closest ties 

To natural beauty; whether in the field 

The lavish blessings of the open sky 

Are shed around him, or in city vast 

The Sun in crimson guise lift up his orb 

Clothing the mist, distinct with domes and towers, 

In wreathed glories. 

God doth nought in vain; 
And from the searchings of benighted souls 
Before the light arose, hath flowed to us 



LESSON VI. 115 

Great store of Truth — for in that mighty quest 
Nought that was fair on Earth, or bright in Heaven 
Wanted its honour, or its place assigned, 
Or careful culture; and all lovely things 
Were ranged for guides along the path to God. 

From his fire-beacon for a thousand years 
The searching spirit of the lorn Chaldee 
Held converse with the starry multitude; 
He knew the lamping potentates that bring 
Summer and winter, when they wax and wane: 
Soothing his solitary soul with song 
Low-hummed, of mighty hunters, or the queen 
That blazed in battle-front, or if perchance 
Of gentler mood, of Nineveh's soft king 
Sardanapalus, that on roses slept. 
Lulled by the lingering tremble of soft lutes;— 
Deep melodies, whose echoes left the world 
Before the empires rose, whose wrecks are we; — 
How proudly in his Paradise of Art 
The old Egyptian must have worn his pomp. 
Nature's first moulded form of perfectness 
Wrought in her sport, and playfully destroyed 



Il6 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

That she might try her artist hand again ; 
How beautiful was Greece — how marvellous 
In polity, and chastened grace severe — 
In nicely-balanced strains, and harmonies 
Tuned to the varying passion; flute or lyre 
Not unaccompanied by solemn dance 
In arms, or movement of well-ordered youths 
And maids in Dorian tunic simply clad; — 
How rich in song, and artful dialogue. 
Long-sighted irony, and half earnest guess 
At deeply-pondered truth. 

But spirits pure. 
Deep drinking at the fount of natural joy. 
Grew sad and hopeless as the foot of Death 
Crept onwards ; and beyond the deep-blue hills 
And plains o'erflowed with light, and woody paths, 
No safe abode of everduring joy 
Lifted its promise to the sight of Man. 

'' Farewell, farewell for ever — never more 
Thy beautiful young form shall pass athwart 
Our fond desiring vision; — the great world 



LESSON VI. 117 

Moves on, and human accidents; and Spring 
New-clothes the forests, and the warm west wind 
Awakes the nightingales ; — but thou the while 
A handful of dull earth, art not, and we 
Insatiable in woe weep evermore 
Around the marble where thine ashes lie," 
Such sounds by pillared temple, or hill-side 
Sweet with wild roses, or by sacred stream 
Errant through mossy rocks, saddened the air. 
Whether ripe virgin on the bier were borne. 
Or youth untimely cropped; or in still night 
The moon shone full, and choir of maidens moved 
Through glades distinct with shadow, bearing vows 
Of choicest flowers and hair, — fearful the while 
Of thwarting influence or uncautious word. 
Till round the tomb they poured their votive wine 
And moved in dance, or chanted liquid hymns 
Soothing the rigid silence. "Fare thee well; 
A journey without end, a wakeless sleep, 
Or some half-joyful place, where feeble ghosts 
Wander in dreamy twilight, holds thee now; 
Thy joy is done : and thine espousals kept 
Down in the dark house of forgetfulness," 



118 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

Home of our spirits, whether terrassed high 
From Kedron's brook in thy Judaean hills, 
A pleasant place, and joy of all the earth ; 
Or in a brighter vision opening forth 
Thy gold-paved streets and jasper architraves. 
Above, and free, and Mother of us all ; 
To thee my step would turn — to thy new songs 
Fain would I tune the harp, that lightly skilled 
Essays high music; in the eternal calm 
Of thy pure air, and by thy living streams. 
Drink long forgetfulness of earthly woe. 
For thy sweet port this little bark long bound 
Hath wandered on the waters — or my steps 
Devious through many a land, each pleasant hill 
Each mossy nook hath stayed on search for thee; 
Still somewhat finding of wide-scattered joy. 
Some thoughts of deep sweet meaning; but desire 
Grows with my spirit's growth; and nought on earth 
Is glorious now as it hath glorious been. 
So doth my forward vision search, and read 
In the dim distance tracks of severed light 
Forerunning thy descent, by prophets seen 
Of old in prospect, out of heaven from God;— 



LESSON VI. 119 

Our earth hath nought so blessed; not the grove 
Budding in Spring, with choir of nightingales 
Vocal in shadowy moonlight; not the crest 
Of old Olympus, seat of Gods secure 
Through the eternal ages, which nor wind 
With rude breath dares to shake, nor rain to wet. 
Nor flakes of floating snow ; but ever stretch 
The boundless fields of aether without cloud 
Above, and dazzling sheen of whitest light 
Plays round the holy summit. 

— Art thou one 
Before whose eyes bright visions have unveiled 
Of peace and long-expected rest — to whom 
There hath been shewn some timber-shadowed home 
In a fair counti:y all prepared for thee. 
Just shewn, and then withdrawn — to whom some heart 
But yesterday in firmest union bound, 
Hath vanished from the wide world utterly 
Leaving upon thy breast a dreary want. 
As doth a strain of melody broken off 
In a sweet cadence, on the longing ear? 
Hast thou in very hopelessness of soul 



120 SCHOOL OP THE HEART. 

Bowed down to tyrant power, cheating thy life 

Of the sweet guidance of the will, and toiled 

Bridled by strong necessity, unnamed 

Save by proud reasoners on the mass of men. 

An unit in the aggregate, a wheel 

In the base system that unsouls our race — 

While human feelings deep and pure within 

Flow out to wife and child, brother and friend. 

And thy tired spirit looks forth in faith to Him 

Who helpeth them to right that suffer wrong? 

Art thou a child of Nature's own, and lovest 

To hold sweet communings with this fair world 

More than to search thy heart, or interchange 

Thought with the thought of other — Is the Earth 

To thee a well of never-failing joy — 

Dost thou affect the charms of budding Spring, 

Seat beneath arching shade, or with slow feet 

To pace the flowery-mantled field, and cull 

With careless hand the glory and delight 

Of motley meadows — art thou deep in love 

With the glorious changes of the dappled sky, 

Whether the circle of the golden Sun 

Shower the heavens with brightness, newly risen. 



LESSON VI. 121 

Scattering the morning frost, or glorify 
The Hquid clearness of the Summer heaven, 
Or the West fade in twilight, till the dark 
Fall on the fields, and Silence and sweet Peace 
Pass hand in hand along the slumbering Earth — 
Then looking from a chamber-casement high 
Over paternal groves, beneath the moon. 
Listlessly pondering, hear the village- clock 
Strike in the voiceless night ? 

All natural joy 
From the dull heartlessness of mortal men 
Set free for ever — Liberty and Peace, 
Desire and its fulfilment, side by side 
Ranged ever, all the long bright days of heaven. 
These shall be thine, in that fair city of God 
Dwelling, where ever through the blessed streets 
Serene light vibrates, and the starry gulphs 
Of aether lie above in perfect rest. 

But why delay and parley with delight 
On this side of the river — steeply rise 
The woody shores beyond, with palace-towers 
And golden minarets sublimely crowned 

VOL. II. p 



122 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

All full of light and glorious; and the stream 

Is calm and silent^, flowing darkly on 

Among strange flowers, and thickets of deep shade 

Weary with toil, and worn with travel, plunge 

From the green margin sweetly without fear; 

Softly put back the wave on either side 

And skim the surface with thy nether lip ; 

Soon shalt thou press the flowers on yonder bank. 

And rest on yielding roses. 'Tis not given 

To trace thee — but most like some mighty stream 

Under a rocky barrier working deep 

With hollow gushings, soon to burst afresh 

Over a new land faintly pictured forth 

Each day on our horizon — such art thou. 

The righteous souls are in the hand of God — 
No harm shall touch them — laid securely by 
Even in an infant's slumber, or perchance 
In gradual progress of their mighty change : 
The summer Sabbath is not half so calm 
As is the blessed chamber, where repose 
After their earthly labours, fenced around 
With guardian Cherubim that weary not. 



LESSON VI. 123 

The spirits of the just : not cave of sleep 

In ancient Lemnos, murmured round by w^aves ; — 

Not the charmed slumber of that British king 

Resting beneath the crumbled abbey-walls 

In the westward-sloping vale of Avalon ; — 

Nor the ambrosial trance of Jove's great son 

That fell beneath Troy walls — whom Death and Sleep 

On dusky-folded wings to Lycia land 

Bore through the yielding aether without noise. 

But who can tell the glories of the day 
When from a thousand hills and wooded vales 
This Earth shall send her tribute forth to God, 
Myriads of blessed forms — when her old wound 
Shall have been fully healed — the Covenant 
Rule in the bright ascendant — while above 
Throb through the air from new-awakened harps 
Pulses of ancient song : and God's own Bride 
Drest for her Husband, lift her sky-clear brow- 
Out of the dust? 

She dwells in sorrow long : 
Her sun of life and light hath sunk away ; 



124 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Her night, far spent it may be, yet is thick 

And hangeth heavily along the sky; 

We cannot see her flowers that bloom around. 

Save where in dazzling clusters through the dark 

Her virgin lilies drink the scattered light: 

She feedeth upon dew distilled from Earth 

And air, and transitory vapour dim; 

But still there is a brightness in the West 

Painfully traced by all her watchful sons; 

Even the glory, at whose parting track 

The men of Galilee stood gazing up 

With shadowed foreheads, till the white-robed pair 

Spoke comfort; and along the hopeful East 

A clear pale shining, promise of a day 

Glorious and wonderful ; — the fainting stars 

Have lost their lustre — voice of wassail mirth 

Is none, for the revels of Earth have past away ; 

All chivalry and pomp that was of yore. 

And fields of cloth of gold — all delicate work 

In metal and in stone, the pride of kings 

And task of captive tribes, have ceased to be : 

Man misseth his old skill; but ever wins 

Upon the world the calm and steady liglit 



LESSON VI. 125 

Forerunning the great Sun; that lighteth now 
Perchance fair orbs around us; soon to burst 
In perfect glory on the Earth we love. 

Rise up thou daughter of the brightest King 
That ever wore a crown; awake and rise^ 
Forget thy people and thy father's house; 
Thou that wert yeaned in winter dreariness^ 
Swathed in the manger of thy Love and Lord, 
Shake off thy dust and rise — thine hour is come. 
The marriage morn is come, and all the bells 
In heaven are whispering with their silver tongues; 
And the faint pulses of the sound divine 
Are swimming o'er thee where thou liest yet 
Unwaked; — the pomp of Seraphim ere long 
Will be upon thee, and the sheen of Heaven 
Fall on thy brow, as doth the glimpse of the East 
Upon the folded flower. 

My task is done : 
The garlands that I wreathed around my brow 
Are fading on it, and the air of song 
Is passing from me. Thou art standing by. 



126 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

Bent o'er thy Poet with Love-lighted eyes^ 

And raptured look of ardent hope^, that tells 

Of holiest influences shed forth within. 

I have not talked with one who cannot feel 

Every minutest nourishment of thought; 

For I have seen thee when the western gale 

Blew loud and rude upon our native hills. 

With bonnet doffed, courting the busy wind ; 

And I have looked on thee till my dim eyes 

Swam with delight, and thou didst seem to me 

As I stood by thee on the aery steep. 

Like a young Seraph ready poised for flight; 

O sweet illusion — but in after time 

The truth shall follow — for we two shall stand 

Upon the everlasting hills of heaven. 

With glorious beauty clothed that cannot die; 

And far beneath upon the myriad worlds 

All unimaginable glory spread. 

Brighter than brightest floods of rosy light 

Poured by the sunset on our western sea. 

It will not matter to the soul set free 

Which hemisphere we tenanted on earth ; 

Whether it sojourned where the northern Avain 



LESSON VI. 12' 

Dips not in Ocean, or beneath the heaven 

Where overhead the austral cross is fixed 

Glistering in glory, or amidst the snows 

Under the playing of the Boreal lights ; 

We shall be free to wander evermore 

In thought, the spirit's motion, o'er the wide 

And wondrous universe, with messages 

To beautiful beings who have never fallen. 

And worlds that never heard the cry of sin. 

As one who in a new and beauteous land 

Lately arrived, rests not till every way 

His steps have wandered, searching out new paths 

To far off towers that rise along the vales ; 

So to a thousand founts of Hght unknown 

Our new-enfranchised souls shall travel forth. 

Rich with strange beauties — some, it may be, clad 

With woods, and interlaced with playful brooks 

And ever-changing shades, like this our home ; 

And some a wilderness of craggy thrones. 

With skies of stranger hue; and glorious 

With train of orbs attendant on their state. 

Mingling their rays in atmospheres of Love. 



128 SCHOOL OF THE HEART. 

But yet one word. Yon silver-fringed clouds 
That scale the western barrier of the world 
Pile upon pile^, seem to have borrowed gleams 
Of that aetherial light I told thee of; 
And the clear blue^, so calm and deep behind 
On which they sail, is like the mighty Soul, 
Thus fathomless, thus dwelt in by strange things 
On which the forms of multitudinous thought 
Float ever, bright or dark, or complicate 
Of light and darkness; and the quiet stars 
Are fountains of far off and milder fire. 
Nearer the throne of God ; the hopes and joys 
Of which I sung to thee, that make no wave 
Upon the stream of memory ; but from which 
The spiritual senses take their power. 
And from a myriad stones, costly though small. 
Is built the mansion of the blessed soul. 



Thus far in golden dreams of youth, I sung 
Of Love and Beauty — beauty not the child 



LESSON VI. 129 

Of change, nor Love the growth of fierce desire, 
But calm and blessed both, the heritage 
Of purest spirits, sprung from trust in God. 
Further to pierce the veil, asks riper strength, 
And firmer resting on conclusions fixed 
By patient labour wrought in manly years. 
Here rest we then : our message thus declared. 
Leave the full echoes of our harp to ebb 
Back from the sated ear: teaching meanwhile 
Our thoughts to meditate new melodies. 
Our hands to touch the strings with safer skill. 



VOL. II. 



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